


Asphodel

by saunatonttu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Fantasy, M/M, angst with a lot of fluff on the side, iwaoi and kenhina on the side, mature due to violence/blood, minor character death starting from chapter three, there will be no happy endings when I'm done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Later on, he thought it ironic that he met Tsukishima Kei on a moonlit night. Back then, he had no idea just how important Kei would become to him. </p><p>No idea of how heartwrenchingly painful loving him could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. witch-hazel

**Author's Note:**

> I feel it's only fair that I warn you again here: despite how many fluffy scenes I have planned here, this will not have a happy ending (unless I change my mind, which is entirely possible). There's violence, there's drama, there's a lot of things you might not want to see. 
> 
> But there will also be heart-melting, teeth-rotting fluff, because that's just how sappy I am.

The foliage under his bare feet was soft and wet from the downpour earlier in the day, and just the kind that Kuroo preferred when he was feeling restless. The forest's silence was peaceful, wrapping him into its calming embrace effortlessly; it was everything he needed after days of listening to the metallic clanging of weapon against weapon back at the castle grounds. Days of sheer boredom that he tried to alleviate by studying the new scrolls on black magic Oikawa had recently gotten in his ever so elegant hands.

Now that he had the freedom to take in the scents of the forest, Kuroo felt much better. The dusty library — which was like a second home to him by now — was stuffy and smelly, unappreciative of Kuroo's needs for fresh air.

Kuroo had gotten  _very_  restless during the hours spent there among other scholars (who were instinctively wary of him, being both a demon and a dark mage) with not a chance to go out to practice the spells he had spent so much time figuring out. For a good cause, too, but recently no one had been allowed in or out of the castle, asides from carriages of food and ambassadors from foreign lands.

Kuroo had only managed to sneak out that night after a luxurious dinner that was spent mostly listening to the King's ever so cheerful talk.

All in all, this was a welcome change to his routine of the week, and Kuroo hummed contentedly as he walked through the forest, his feet sinking into the damp moss comfortably. There was a village not too far away from the Grand King Oikawa's castle — Kenma's home, in fact. It was already late in the evening, but Kuroo was sure Kenma would still be up. Possibly waiting for him; Kenma always seemed to know when Kuroo was coming, and he always had warm food and some new book to borrow him. (While complaining about Kuroo never returning any of the previous ones.)

A crescent moon hung low in the sky, casting its guiding light down. The dim light was just enough for Kuroo to see where he was going without crashing into trees, but he had the extra advantage of owning a spectacular pair of eyes.

Night was his favorite time of the day — sure, there were moths and other flying bugs around being bothersome, but the cool air and the hooting of owls were kind, pleasant even when tensions ran high in the kingdom, which caused Oikawa's smiles turn sharper and edgier.

Kuroo hummed to himself as he hopped over a small dip in the ground — barely visible in the darkness, but this was  _his_  territory — and rolled his shoulders, the fabric of his cloak shifting along with his movements. He was familiar with this particular forest, having long since chosen it as his personal hunting grounds. It encompassed a vast area from the King's castle to the rural areas of the land — it wasn't  _primarily_  just Kuroo's, but there was certainly enough acres to share with others.

Tonight he wasn't out for hunting, though.

Regardless, his senses were as sharp as ever, and he heard the sounds of flapping wings and distressed hooting before he even smelled the blood. Once he smelled it, though, it was impossible to ignore: the sharp, metallic scent of blood entered his nose, and Kuroo grimaced. From the strength of the smell, it was quite an amount of blood.

It could be an animal, possibly a victim of the wolves that frequented the area. A deer, perhaps, or even a small lynx. The last thought made Kuroo's lips curl down — he was fond of the lynxes in the area, mostly because they didn't run away at the sight of him, like people. (Neither did wolves, but a cat person is a cat person… er, demon.)

Eyes narrowing into slits, Kuroo hastened his pace until he was jogging up and down the ascending and descending hill. The stench got stronger when he reached a clearing, and by then his eyes caught sight of the hunched figure near the other end of the field of moss. The moon offered proficient lighting, but even without that, Kuroo's eyes — attuned to night as they were — saw the person clearly.

Taking another tentative sniff, Kuroo approached the young man, the smell of blood and sweat growing heavier by the meter he gained on the other.

In the moonlight, the sight was almost ethereal, a romantic distortion. A young man, possibly younger than Kuroo, lay on his knees, wheezing hard and shallow breaths as his hands held onto his stomach. Through the holes of the tattered, black clothes, Kuroo saw red-tainted skin and ugly bruises that the pale complexion and moon highlighted.

Next, he noted the soft glow of blond hair, almost silver-like in the dim light, and the pair of small horns that jutted out of the side of the man's head. Kuroo's eyes narrowed at the sight. Ah.

His eyes went lower, down to the man's low-hung, sickeningly pale face, half of which was reigned by smudged blood. Kuroo wrinkled his nose. It looked like he had gone through  _hell_. The glasses on the blond's face were as messed up as the rest of him — askew, covered in red, lenses slightly cracked at the corners.

"Well, look at what the cat found," Kuroo whistled as he carefully stepped closer, the blond only now taking notice of his presence and whipping his head up completely. Brown eyes glared weakly, defensively at Kuroo, who came to a complete halt when a low hissing sound pierced the air. "Hey, hey, calm down, kitten. I'm not here to hurt you."

The low hissing turned into an outright growl as the blond forced himself to crawl back, every limb trembling with the effort and from obvious exhaustion. "Stay away," he said, finally, when Kuroo did nothing to back off. "Stay away—" His eyes flickered towards Kuroo's head and the horns larger than his own. "—you demon."

Kuroo noted the waver in his voice, noticed the stubborn frown that tugged the blond's brow down. He smelled the fear, the anxiety. None of it was enough to deter him, though, and he casually shrugged his shoulders in one exaggerated move. "That's rich, coming from one of my kind," he laughed, tilting his head curiously. "I suppose you must be a halfbreed, then."

The fellow demon (well, half-demon, Kuroo supposed) flinched, as though the word physically hurt him, and drew arms over himself as though that would shield against Kuroo.

 _That… was probably the wrong thing to say,_ Kuroo realized and mentally kicked himself.  _Of course it was. Look at how he's growling at you._

"I'm not gonna hurt ya," Kuroo said slowly, eyes softening as he looked at the hunched, trembling figure before him. "You're lucky I found you, though. You look like you've been through some rough times."

The half-demon's shoulders remained tense, the brown eyes wary and distrustful. "What makes you think I would believe that?" he asked, more collected now than previously, but there was no hiding the pain from his voice and face. "You hardly look like a trustworthy person, regardless of what you are." The words stumbled slightly, as the blond wheezed in pain, hand clutching harder at the bleeding wound on his side.

Kuroo sighed. Distrust was such a bothersome thing these days — between humans and demons, even between demons themselves.

"I don't want to put it this way, but," Kuroo rubbed at the back of his head lazily, eyes narrowing as his lips smiled, "you don't really have a choice, you know? I doubt anyone else in these parts is very willing to help you out, honestly; this is mostly  _my_  territory, after all."

As for why Kuroo felt obligated to save another's life, especially considering how dark his reputation was, well… Kuroo had his morals in tact, despite that reputation. He wasn't going to let another one bite the dust if he could help it.

The blond's face changed at his words. The weary, wary stubbornness turned into a considering, equally as tired but less angry look. "Where would you take me?" he asked cautiously, chest heaving with the effort to breathe.  _About to collapse,_  Kuroo thought and stepped closer despite how uncomfortable it visibly made the other. "Stay  _still,_ " he hissed, but adrenaline seemed to have abandoned him as he didn't move away from Kuroo.

"There's a castle nearby," Kuroo said, "I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about, blondie."

The said blondie's nose wrinkled in distaste, but eyes were wide with worry as his teeth nibbled at his lower lip. He definitely knew the castle Kuroo was talking about.  _So, probably not an outsider then,_ Kuroo decided as he extended his arm slowly. "You feeling up for it yet?" he grinned. "I doubt you wanna stay out  _here_  all night either. Wolves, y'know."

The blondie let out a long sigh that ended up sounding more like a choked gasp. "Fine."

.

.

.

It turned out Kuroo had been right when he had thought that the half-demon had been ready to collapse and faint. The moment the black mage had helped him up and leaned him against his shoulder (" _you are_ _ **not**_   _carrying me in your arms,"_  Glasses-kun had insisted with a faint sneer), all energy seemed to ooze out of the nameless demon and his head drooped forward as he lost consciousness.

"You really should stay conscious if you don't want me to carry you in my arms, Glasses-kun," Kuroo said teasingly to the unconscious demon before bending down to pick the other's legs up with his free arm, adjusting the demon in his arms until he was settled in a comfortable, easy-to-carry position. "Not that you'd have had any choice in the matter since you keep bleeding, and we're in a hurry."

Once his grip on the awkwardly long legs and the abdomen was secure, Kuroo turned back and hurried back to the castle, curious but grim thoughts fluttering back and forth in his head.  _What's he doing out here this late, why is he so wounded, is he going to make it._ Kuroo could hear the faint sound of breathing, and the warmth on his arms was still very real, but the worry wouldn't let him off of its tightening grasp.

There was also a part of him that was delighted to find another one like him and Oikawa — one that was of their age group, one that hadn't been made to hate humans. Curiously enough, it seemed as though the blondie hated  _demons,_ but if he was a halfbreed, it was easy to believe even without a dramatic story. Sigh. Humans did love to pass old hatreds onto new generations, didn't they?

Kuroo's lips pressed into a thin line as his thoughts went back to Kenma and what had happened the last time he had gone to visit the white mage. (Irony came in doubles: black and white mages, a demon and a human.) He could only hope Kenma himself was alright — he was, according to the last letter he had gotten from him, but Kuroo felt uneasy regardless — and that their friendship hadn't been discovered. Though, Kuroo supposed the villagers would be anxious and too terrified to harm the small mage, since Kuroo's infamy preceded him.

 _Didn't stop them from getting their pitchforks when they saw your horns,_ Kuroo reminded himself bitterly, his lips curling down. Maybe the demon in his arms had faced the same treatment. Considering the wounds he had gotten a superficial look at, it was more than likely. That made Kuroo's heart ache in sympathy and his hands tighten the hold around the surprisingly light weight.

 _Sorry, Kenma, I guess I won't be coming to visit you for a while,_ Kuroo mentally apologized to his friend. He would send a messenger pigeon the following morning once he had gotten the blondie settled down and healed up properly.

.

.

.

Despite the late time, Kuroo found that a great number of the castle's medical staff wasn't asleep yet. Not the most surprising occurrence, since Oikawa had frequent stomachaches that manifested, mostly, during nighttime. (Most of which were cured by his loyal knight's company, much to the said knight's annoyance and relief.) There were also the cases of a servant or a guard falling ill or injuring themselves that kept the healers and their apprentices busy.

But nothing was quite as important as the young man in his arms. The very much bleeding, wheezing blond whose face was under candlelight was actually quite endearing.

 _Not important,_  Kuroo told himself as he watched the healers gather around, more or less audibly flinching at the sight of the fresh wounds.

"Looks like he got attacked by a wolf, or another predator," one of the healers muttered to another, and Kuroo picked it up. A wolf? Surely that guy could have fought a wolf off, if he had tried or if he had used magic of any sort.  _Maybe he doesn't know any?_  It was way too early to jump to conclusions, though, and Kuroo seated himself in the farthest corner in the room, making sure to stay out of the healers' way.

"There are older wounds, as well," another piped up. "They reopened recently."

They weren't talking  _at_  Kuroo exactly, but Kuroo didn't have any issue with listening to their murmured speculations. He had to see to it that they really would take care of the young demon.

This was, probably, the most interesting thing that had happened in days, asides from Oikawa's relationship drama, which got boring after a while. There was so much of "Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan" that Kuroo could listen to without feeling like he was interrupting something, no matter how disgustingly endearing the young King's infatuation with his right-hand man was. Or  _because_  of how endearing it was, Kuroo supposed. Young love was disgustingly sweet.

There was only so much of muttered "Tobio-chan" that Kuroo could listen to without yawning, as well, but that was a completely different issue.

Kuroo hummed to himself, closing his eyes as he listened to the healers at their work. The healing magic crackled in the air, volatile and unpredictable at the hands of apprentices. Kuroo flinched; Kenma's healing spells were never as violent as these.

 _Maybe I should have taken him to Kenma, instead,_ Kuroo thought as he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above his head.  _But there's only so little that one person can do._  That, and it would have taken longer to get to Kenma's than to the castle, even with the castle's complex lay-out. At least the healing rooms were all located in the lower sections of the castle, instead of high up in the towers as Oikawa had "initially planned them to be" according to the King himself.

 _Why,_  Kuroo had asked with raised eyebrows.  _The trip to there would be hard on the injured._

 _Precisely,_  OIkawa had said, a fake smile on his face.  _It would be fun to watch everyone crawl up there and taint the staircase with red, wouldn't it?_

Yet, Oikawa had never seriously considered that, Kuroo knew. The demon king talked big and ugly, but he—

Not that Kuroo could say he knew Oikawa, though. Perhaps he was as ugly on the inside as on the outside. Maybe Kuroo himself was uglier on the inside than the outside, too.

_Gotta embrace the ugliness, then._

It was a nonsensical thought, something that didn't make sense to himself either, but thinking stupid shit while wearing an intimidating face was pretty damn fine with him. It kept him entertained, and everyone (usually) out of his way and very compliant to his requests. And right now, Kuroo's intimidating presence was indirectly saving the other demon's life, even though he could hear disgruntled grumbling from the younger healers, the ones that hadn't seen much of Kuroo and what he could do and thus the intimidation level was much lower. But they would learn eventually, Kuroo supposed. When Oikawa would playfully challenge him for a spar, anyway.

It had been a while.

"Hey, healer-kun number three, I'm sure you've had uglier jobs before, so don't go complaining now," Kuroo quipped, his lips forming a grin but his voice low and quiet enough to demand attention. "It's good practice for you, anyway."

Number three didn't seem to realize Kuroo's words were directed at him. Oh well.  _Others_  seemed to realize it for his sake, anyway, and hushed him to be quiet in the presence of the King's second most trusted ally.

 _Ally_ was such a strong word.

The healing magic slowly faded off, and Kuroo watched the healers wrapping the half-demon up, eye half-lidded and the look in them anything but lazy. It took some time, since the now barely closed wounds had to be cleansed first, but Kuroo took that as a sign that they were taking this job seriously, and so he allowed himself to relax against the back of his chair and close his eyes.

He might have even nodded off, since the next thing he knew was someone's small hands shaking his shoulders. "Kuroo. Kuroo, wake up."

Kuroo raised his head, blinking a few times to rid himself of the drowsy feeling. "Yaku?"

"Yeah," Yaku nodded, the dark bags under his darker eyes showing off his exhaustion. "Other healers just left. We're done wrapping your…" Yaku bit at his lower lip, trying to find the correct word to describe the patient. "… _discovery_  up. When he wakes up, give him some whiskey or something else to dull the pain he's in."

"You're not staying?" Kuroo grinned tiredly, his face showing off just how little sleep he had gotten in the past week. "Just when I thought we could catch up."

Yaku rolled his eyes. "I haven't gotten sleep in what feels like  _days,_ Kuroo," he muttered. The chastising  _neither have you_  went unsaid, but Kuroo heard it regardless. "So I'm going to take off. And you make sure he gets that shot of whiskey when he wakes up.  _If_ he wakes up."

"If?" Kuroo cocked an eyebrow, his stomach jumping uneasily at the thought of the blond's eyes never opening again. "Don't be so morbid, Yaku. He's gonna wake up, and that's that."

"We're not miracle workers," Yaku said, a yawn escaping past his lips, and his dark eyes teared up a little. "Magic in general only takes us so far, you know that."

"You get so dark when you're tired," Kuroo laughed, leaning forward to pat Yaku on the shoulders. He didn't even have to stand up to do that. "Get some sleep."

"Whatever," Yaku yawned again, shrugging Kuroo's hand off. "I'll come check on him when I wake up."

Kuroo hummed in response, unable to stop himself from letting out a large yawn when Yaku had disappeared from the room. Joints stiff, he stood up with a grimace spreading over his face. Yeah, he needed to stretch, definitely, but he was more concerned for the patient Yaku had left in his care.

His cloak wrapped around him, Kuroo tiptoed over to the bed Glasses-kun had been settled onto, sitting down to the chair beside the bed and ignored the remnants of the metallic smell that lingered in the air.  _It's stuffy here too,_ Kuroo thought with mild disdain as he glanced down at the room's only occupant besides himself.

With the combined light from both the candles and the moon, Kuroo now got a much better view of the pale face that he had run across to in the clearing. Now without his glasses, nothing was hidden of that pale face. Cheeks still a little chubby and round, glassless Glasses-kun seemed a bit younger than Kuroo had initially thought. Around eighteen, perhaps, just on the cusp of legal adulthood.

Kuroo's eyes trailed down the face, stopped to watch the cheekbones and the soft-curved jaw. Then his eyes followed the thin lines of his mouth, pale pink on even paler skin, and the fluttering shadows that danced on his face along to the shifting flames of candles.

Glasses-kun's nose was small and sharp, overall a pretty one, but Kuroo's attention was focused on the pale eyelashes against bruised skin. All in all, he had a nice face, Kuroo thought, though dried blood and bruises littered the otherwise unblemished skin. Kuroo's attention moved up to the blond hair — the most striking feature asides from the horns. It had been a little difficult to tell in the moonlight, but his hair was actually the brightest Kuroo had seen in a while, almost resembling the golden color of full-grown crops.

The horns that jutted out from the sides of Glasses-kun's head were small, just big enough to be noticeable on first glance if one paid attention somewhat. Small enough to be easy enough to hide with bandages or a hat, if one were to try.

Some dried blood lingered in the curve of the right-sided horn from Kuroo's view, ruining the beige color of the horns with the dark red that had darkened near black by then.

Kuroo hummed thoughtfully as he watched the blond's chest rise and fall steadily. Yaku's pessimistic words rang through his mind once, but he shook them off easily as he watched Glasses-kun sleeping, whose glasses had been left by the side of the healing circle in the middle of the large room.

This might end up becoming a long wait, but it would be worth it in the end, Kuroo knew as he smiled sadly. There were only so many he managed to save during these trying times; he was glad he had succeeded this time.

Shifting stiffly in his seat, Kuroo closed his eyes again and prepared himself for a quick nap. It was easy enough to fall asleep to the quiet sounds of his unconscious companion's slow but steady breaths. Easy enough to finally get some well-deserved rest like Yaku and others.


	2. hibiscus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's poison, isn't it," Kei deadpanned, eyes moving to the glass of liquid that the cloaked demon held in his hand.
> 
> The cat-like eyes crinkled in amusement. "I know better — and cleaner — ways to kill someone than poison, my dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Nicole, who knows just how awful this story will get. I'm so glad you don't mind spoilers.  
> Also to Kay, who is one of the reasons I have come to enjoy writing KuroTsuki so much.

Kozume Kenma woke up to frantic bird singing outside his bedroom window, and that was perhaps the worst wake-up call he had had in a while. Especially since he hadn't intended to fall asleep the night before, and so his sleeping place turned out to be his dinner table. Gross.

Sun had barely risen over the horizon when Kenma wriggled himself into a proper sitting position, wiping his aching cheek clean from his own drool with the back of his hand, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Kuro hadn't come by that night, after all.

Kenma made himself simple breakfast while thinking about his childhood friend, his brow wrinkled in an anxious frown. They didn't have prearranged timetables of when they should meet, but he knew Kuro loved wandering out whenever the moon was out, unhindered by the clouds. Kuro was like that: the moon invited him, and Kuro always accepted it without a second thought. It had been like that since they first became friends through their parents.

(Now dead parents, but that was a thought Kenma tried not to think too often. It was no use being bitter over the past, anyway; it would only affect his magic, and his life would go downhill from there.)

Kenma smiled slightly at the memory of seeing Kuro bathed in moonlight, a delighted grin on his face as he tried to get Kenma to come look at the moon with him. Kenma sometimes gave in. More often than he had even realized.

He settled down after a while back on his chair, carefully scooping up porridge before blowing on the spoon. It wasn't a bad breakfast — this was routine, sitting at his small wooden table alone and listening to the birds proclaiming their love for the new day outside. What wasn't as normal was the pigeon pecking at his window, though, standing on the edge of what little space there was behind the glass.

Kenma recognized that pigeon, and he cocked his head curiously to side as the pigeon peered straight at him.  _Kuro?_

Slowly, he went to open the window to let the expectant bird in. The bird crooned happily, hopping into the windowsill from where carefully raised it into his hands. After untying the small paper in the bird's leg, he let it go. The white-feathered bird made a happy sound before flying off again without waiting for Kenma's possible response.

He smiled a little as he watched the bird go before turning his attention to the slip of paper his fingers unrolled.

The explanation was just what he should have expected. Kuro had found an injured person and had decided to help him out by taking him back to the castle. Kenma sighed in soft exasperation as he folded the paper. He'd burn it, just in case.

Kenma turned his gaze to the book he had left on the table the previous night, pursing his lips and trying to ignore the disappointment he felt crawling within him. He'd wanted to give that book to Kuro as a very early birthday present; Kuro always enjoyed the spell and magic books Kenma offered him. Kenma had kind of looked forward to seeing Kuro try out the spells with that childishly wide grin on his face.

 _Later,_  Kenma shook his head at himself, brushing overgrown strands off his face.  _I have work to do today._

.

.

.

He didn't have much work in the morning, luckily, but Kenma strode through the village regardless and listened to the morning sounds while trying to blend into the background as much as possible. It was difficult with his pure white robes that made up his attire. Next time he ought to invest in some earth colors rather than white, he thought sullenly when he was pulled into another mindless good-morning conversation by one of the matriarchs of the community.

Kenma wished he had picked a less visible, attention-attracting job.

"Kozume-kun looks as energetic as ever," she crooned, and Kenma smiled politely, although a lot more forcedly. "Always up so early, you're a good example to all of us."

Except that Kenma only woke up so early because of the insufferable heat and birds, but he decided not to say that out loud. Instead, he offered a tentative smile, shoulders stiff as he leaned further away from the elder woman. "Not particularly," he said quietly. "I don't really try."  _To be an example or anything_ , he added as he adjusted the long sleeves of his robes.

"Oh, but you do," she continued, her smile wide on her round face. "Kozume-kun even drove that demon away all those weeks ago."

 _Kuro,_  Kenma thought and his shoulders slumped at the memory. He hadn't seen him since, so he had no idea how the encounter had affected him. "It was nothing," Kenma assured the elder, his smile fainter and tighter on his lips. "I merely played my part."

"So modest," she clicked her tongue in disapproval before the sharp blue eyes flashed as she remembered something. "That reminds me, Kozume-kun; did you hear about the recent demon sighting?"

Kenma's thoughts went back to Kuro's message.  _An injured demon…_ "No," he said cautiously. "I thought I would have, if it happened near the village."

"Oh, not here," she flicked her thin wrist dismissively. "In another village, perhaps two days of footwork from here. I can't recall the name quite—"

"Karasuno?" Kenma suggested, and her blue eyes widened as she nodded vigorously in response.

"Yes, yes, that's the name. Such an ominous one for a village, I swear," she muttered under her breath, brow wrinkling judgmentally. Kenma suppressed a sigh before clearing his throat, wordlessly urging her to continue.

"Well, most of it is simply rumors," she admitted, a strange look on her face as she gestured Kenma to walk with her. Kenma followed, ignoring the rest of the good-morning wishes from the few people that were up with them. "But there's always some truth in rumors, so that makes it even more frightening."

Kenma pursed his lips into a thin line, vague annoyance tugging at his mind.  _Just stop talking like they're all bad._ He thought back to that night when Kuro had visited him, weary grin on his face and a cloak as red as blood. Things had escalated into a riot, resulting in burnt houses and renewed fear as thick as the morning fog that lingered around.

"What I heard from my beloved grandson," she continued, the wrinkle between her brows deepening and her sharp chin quivering, "was that there were  _two_ of them. Two demons living amongst  _people,_ pretending to be humans." She shuddered, as though the very thought disgusted her. "There's something inherently wrong about that."

"They shouldn't have to pretend in the first place," Kenma muttered inaudibly to himself. There was only so much of the small community mentality that he could take so early in the morning. Usually calm and collected, he now felt his nerves grinding against each other as his annoyance level went from one to three.

"Hmm?"

"Oh, nothing," Kenma said absentmindedly, even though the gist of the story already. It wasn't difficult to figure out, considering the last weeks. "So, what happened?"

She was the village's source of unreliable information, but at times that was the only thing they could rely on. Living this close to the King, one would think they were more informed than this. More aware than this.

More  _liberal_  than this, too, considering how much closer the kindness of Oikawa Tooru was there. (Perhaps kindness was a wrong word to use here.)

"It's rather obvious, is it not? Once the discovery was made, the people were outraged. Furious and fearful, rightfully so," she sing-songed, as though this was a tale of human courage when it, in reality, was a tale of fear and discrimination. It made Kenma sick to his stomach, but he didn't say anything.

"Death by fire, then?" Kenma said quietly, his brow furrowing in distaste as Kuro's message came to his mind.

"No, he didn't mention anything about the method they chose," the old lady murmured, her eyes hard and her lips in a thin line. "My poor grandson thinks they might be at loose even now; they may even be headed our way. Is that not the most dreadful thing you've ever heard, Kozume-kun? Half of the village, or so I heard, was burned down in their wake. It's a horrible,  _horrible_ thing to happen to Karasuno…"

 _Not more horrible than your mouth,_  Kenma thought to himself and resisted the urge to smile at it. "I'm going," he said, not responding to her question, and turned away from her towards the library that was just around the corner. "Thank you for the news, Terushima-san." The honorific tasted like poison on his mouth, but he didn't have the luxury of dropping it just yet.

"Ah, studying again, Kozume-kun? What a diligent boy you are…"

Kenma bit on his tongue, hands underneath his robes twitching. "You flatter me so," he said flatly, waving his hand in a farewell as he turned towards the large wooden construction that hid hundreds of scrolls and books of knowledge within it. Kenma's favorite place in the whole village. His sanctuary.

But even the library could do so much about the crawling guilt in his stomach and the feeling that he should have said something. That he should  _do_  something.

 _I'm not good at taking initiative,_  Kenma thought to himself as he sullenly picked a new scroll to study while ignoring the enthusiastic greeting from the librarians.  _Kuro's much better at that._

Still, it was obvious to Kenma that he couldn't afford to remain passive for much longer, what with everything that had and was happening around him.

Kenma heaved out a sigh. What a pain.

.

.

.

He knew he was dreaming, but that didn't make it feel any less real to his senses. He knew he was dreaming, but he still couldn't take control of the dream.

Instead, he followed the dream sequence, his legs wobbling and his nose sniffling as he tried to find someone in the nondescript house he had called home for as long as he could remember. The sweltering heat outside was awful, the sweat clinging to his pale skin even worse, and Kei felt like he was going to be sick.

"Niichan?"

A vague terror tugged at his heart, one that he couldn't explain. " _Niichan?"_

Sun came through the windows, invasive and hot, and Kei tugged at his sweaty shirt, disgusted by the way it clung to him like the leeches his brother and him had occasionally caught from the river that crossed the village.

Kei furrowed his brow, agitated by the heat and the silence in the house. "Niichan?"

His knees ached from playing outside with Tadashi so much, and his head felt too light, throat too dry. And he couldn't find his brother. The last point made everything much worse, because Akiteru was the best brother in the world and the Coolest Big Kid that Kei knew of, so the lack of Akiteru's presence was—

"Kei?" Startled, he raised his head up to see Akiteru looking down at him.  _Huh,_ Kei wondered, the dizzy thought as confused as Akiteru's face. "I thought you were out playing with Yamaguchi-kun."

"Mmm," Kei muttered, eyes prickling as he reached his hands out towards Akiteru. "Too hot out. Felt gross."

Akiteru's face, always kind and refreshing, smoothed into a gentle smile as he leaned down to pick Kei up. "Sounds like you need a nap, little brother," he laughed against the side of Kei's head, against the damp blond hair. "Let's take one together, like in the old times."

"Yeah," Kei said a little too eagerly, which he realized as well. "I mean… whatever."

Akiteru simply laughed, and ruffled Kei's hair as Kei's head fell into Akiteru's dry and cool shoulder. The  _I'll always be here for you_ went unsaid, but Kei clung to that thought before falling asleep against the steady shoulder of his big brother.

.

.

.

He woke up disoriented and in pain, the latter feeling more prominent than the first, and he groaned pitifully as he forced his eyes open. The onslaught of sunlight from the window in the room was too much, so he closed them again, gritting his teeth together to keep himself quiet.

 _Silence,_  his brother had taught him,  _is the most essential skill for us these days._

Kei remembered the ashen look on Akiteru's face when he had uttered those words, and this time the pain that prickled at his chest wasn't from his wounds.

Taking a quiet breath, Kei tried to open his eyes again, slowly this time to adjust himself to the bright sunlight that filled the room. Eyes half-lidded, he stared at the unfamiliar stone ceiling above him, brows furrowed as he tried to recall what had happened. The darkness of the forest was the first memory that flickered through his mind, followed by the memory of the wolves and growling sounds.

He didn't want to indulge  _that_  memory any further, so he discarded it with a shaky inhale. The next memory — preceding the wolves and the forest — was of flames, of screams, of fear and anger that combined into a mentality most wrathful.

He didn't want to remember that either, so he tried to find the memories in between and after. It wasn't too difficult, luckily, though the memory was hazy at best: a fluttering cloak of red was the most prominent feature of it, followed by a flicker of golden, cat-like eyes. Observant eyes that had put Kei on the edge when he had first seen them. And then there were the horns.

 _Oh, no._  Kei closed his eyes as the realization dawned on him with a hard shudder as though somebody had slid ice cubes down his neck.  _Oh,_ _ **no.**_

The pain in his midsection distracted him from his musings as he tried to roll to his side, but ended up groaning aloud instead, hands gripping at the bandages wrapped over the ugly wounds. Kei didn't need to be a genius to realize that moving on his own was going to be an arduous, if not impossible, task. Knowing that made him only feel sicker to his stomach.

"Oh, you're awake, Glasses-kun." A vaguely familiar voice with an unnerving lilt made Kei's movements still. "Come on, I already know you are. Don't play shy with me now."

Irritation burned deep in his gut, laced with fear and worry that came from his upbringing, that came from listening to the superstitious tales of how demons ate gullible children for breakfast. Kei wasn't a child anymore, but those tales came back to him right then, memories of them sharp and clear in his mind.

"You in so much pain you can't talk? Alright, I've got a fix for you," the  _demon_  Kei's back faced laughed shortly. It was a more human sound than Kei could have expected, and it made him uncomfortable. The stabbing pain in his abdomen pulled that feeling aside quickly, though, and Kei rolled back to his original position with a pained whine.

"Let me help you up first." Kei squinted his eyes.

"Where are my glasses?"

"All in due time." Unfortunately, Kei's sight wasn't as bad as one would think, and he saw the grin that spread over the face of his "savior". If the demon could even be called that. "Let me help you up, though. I have something for the pain you must be in, but I'd rather you not choke on it."

"It's poison, isn't it," Kei deadpanned, eyes moving to the glass of liquid that the cloaked demon held in his hand.

The cat-like eyes crinkled in amusement. "I know better — and cleaner — ways to kill someone than  _poison_ , my dear."

"So not only are you a demon, you're an assassin on top of all else," Kei figured, cringing as he watched the other come closer, the glass set down on the chair beside him. "Don't touch me."

The dark-haired menace (that messy, spiky hair in itself was a menace) rolled his eyes. "Kuroo Tetsurou, and not an assassin but a handsome dark mage," he said simply as he bent down to help Kei sit up. Begrudgingly, Kei accepted the offered help, ignoring the surprisingly soft touch of the other's hands and the gentleness Kuroo used to lift and adjust him so that his back was comfortably leaning against the bed frame. He also ignored the fact Kuroo had called himself handsome. 

"What's your name, blondie?" Kuroo grinned at him, a slow and infuriating smile that was probably supposed to be friendly but came across as shit-eating and smug.

"Tsukishima Kei," Kei muttered, gritting his teeth while giving Kuroo a cautious look-over. Kuroo's presence and look both screamed  _bad guy, stay away_ , and Kei wished he hadn't bothered with the almost-polite tone. "You mentioned something about easing my pain," he continued with a sigh, shoulders slumping as he tried to give up on his mental argument with himself. 

 _He saved you, he can't be thoroughly rotten,_ Kei's more naive and sheltered part told him.

 _He's a demon,_  the more realistic, grew-up-with-bad-stories part argued.

Kei stopped himself from thinking on it further. His head and body were hurting badly enough as it was without the extra effort to make this more painful.

Kuroo's face split into another grin, wider than the previous one. "Your name is Tsukishima? For real?"

Kei raised an eyebrow. "…Yeah?" Kuroo was going to say something extremely stupid, he could  _feel_  it.

"It's fate," Kuroo sighed, his hand brushing up the dark bangs that covered half of his face. "Tsukki, we met on a moonlit night."

Kei closed his eyes. If breathing didn't hurt half as much as it did, he would have given the deepest sigh he had ever heaved out in his life. Alas, his body disagreed with that motion.

"That is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my entire life."  _Entire eighteen years of it._

Kuroo blinked at him. The golden eyes glowed so intensely that Kei had to tear his gaze away from them, lips pursed into a thin line.

And then, Kuroo burst into laughter so loud and amused that Kei's ears rang several moments after, Kuroo's voice echoing off the stone walls and through Kei's aching head. Ugh. Kei pinched at the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut.

"You're not easy to charm, huh," Kuroo snickered. "Though I guess I should have guessed that after you flipped your lid over me being what I am."

Kei faintly remembered muttering something about demons upon meeting Kuroo, but even if it had been mean, he couldn't regret it. As far as he knew, it was the truth, even though it was seemingly prejudiced one.

"You are what you are," Kei huffed, rubbing at his eyelids wearily, "and I am in pain." And terrified, but that was better left unacknowledged, because if he admitted it, then it would be impossible to escape it. Impossible to ignore it.

Kuroo's lips tilted into a crooked smile, eyes gleaming as he reached for the glass Kei could very well have gotten himself. "There you go, Tsukki," he murmured as he settled the glass into Kei's hands. Kei raised the glass higher and took a sniff, the strong smell making his nose wrinkle.

"Alcohol," he deadpanned.

"Whiskey," Kuroo confirmed, that unreadable smile stuck on his face.

" _You're giving me whiskey to deal with pain._ "

"Can't give you potions yet, since we have no idea about your allergies," Kuroo shrugged as he raised himself onto the chair, crossing his legs as he leaned back, the fringe already back covering his other eye. "It would be an annoying way to go, don't you think? After all you went through to survive."

 _You don't know the half of it,_ Kei thought as he took the first, wary sip from the glass. The whiskey was just as awful as he had imagined it to be, and he made a face at which Kuroo let out a hearty snort.

"Yeah, it's not that great, but try to deal with it for the time being, Tsukki."

"What's with the nickname?" Kei asked, raising an eyebrow as the alcohol burnt in his throat. The numbness of senses that followed soon was welcome, and the tension eased inside him until it was as good as gone for the time being.

Oh, gods, he was a lightweight.

"Tsuki with double K's," Kuroo said simply. "Sounds cute, yeah?"

"You're way too amused by the moon thing," Kei rolled his eyes. "…Are all demons like this, for real?" He was not impressed.

"That's simply my charm," Kuroo snorted. "You see, I'm a very nice guy."

Kei raised an eyebrow.

"That look is totally uncalled for," Kuroo sniffed. "I'm  _always_  this kind."

Kei tried to hold back the snort, he really tried, but the heavy taste of alcohol and the delirious dizziness from the existing pain made his lips loose. So he laughed a little harder than he should have. "Yeah,  _right._ "

It was the alcohol that made Kuroo Tetsurou bearable. (And perhaps the debt of his life, as well.)

Certainly not anything else.

.

.

.

"He's asleep," Kuroo hushed Yaku as he stepped into the room. Yaku, who didn't look much better than he had the previous night, nodded in understanding as he proceeded to check on how the bandages were holding up.

"Did he wake up?"

"Once, for a while," Kuroo nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned. Tired was a state of being rather than emotion at this point. "Turns out Glasses-kun is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol."  _A light weight in general,_  Kuroo thought to himself, furrowing his brows when he thought how easy Tsukishima had been to carry.

"Go figure," Yaku snorted, half a smile on his face. "At least he's back to sleeping for now. I'll come back later to change his bandages again, and ask for the allergies he might have."

"Alright," Kuroo hummed, closing his eyes. "…Thank you."

"I'm just doing my job," Yaku said lightly, flicking at Kuroo's cheek. "…Although, if you want to thank me, you should try doing something about my apprentice. He's  _impossible._ "

"Lev?" Kuroo's mouth curved up, unhidden amusement spreading over his expression. "What did that kid do this time?"

"Ugh, only mixed up belladonna with gods know what," Yaku rolled his eyes. "We nearly ended up serving King poison instead of his regular medication."

"Ah, well, not like poisons do much to Oikawa. Not a big loss."

"But it makes a big hassle, regardless." Yaku rubbed at his temples, a sigh falling from his mouth like a verdict. "What wouldn't I give for him to grow some  _common sense._ "

"You love him, really," Kuroo opened his eyes and turned his head just enough for Yaku to see his face. "Regardless of how much you deny it."

"Let's not go there," Yaku said, glancing down at the bandaged chest of his patient. "…does your Glasses-kun have a name?"

"Yes," Kuroo sighed happily, "and what a wonderful name it is — Tsukishima."

"Are you  _kidding me._ "

"Not at all. I pointed out the coincidence to him, and he looked like he wanted to throw the whiskey on me."

"No wonder. I would have done just that."

Kuroo clutched at his chest, eyes widening in mock expression of pain, which Yaku simply ignored as he refilled the glass. "Also, Kuroo," Yaku added in a more serious tone, "the King has requested to have a meeting with you."

Kuroo straightened himself, his lips falling into a downward curve. "Oikawa did?"

Yaku glared at him in mild disapproval, but his face smoothed quickly as he finished pouring whiskey on the glass and corked the bottle again. "It seems like he has heard about your adventure," he said carefully as he set the glass down on the small nightstand beside the bed. "No doubt he wants your recount of the events."

A sigh passed the dark mage's mouth as his head tilted back in a thoughtful manner, eyes gazing up. "I suppose so. He's always so nosy about these sort of things."

"Good luck," Yaku said softly.

"Thanks… is that glass of whiskey for him or for me?"

Yaku smiled half-heartedly. "Figure it out, dumbass."

"And this is how you talk to the kingdom's most feared black mage…!" Kuroo clutched at his chest again. "I am so very wounded by your insulting words, Yaku."

"No one knows you like I do… fortunately for them, I guess."

" _Again,_ Yaku. I thought your manners were better than this."

"What can I say?" Yaku laughed. "I can't help myself around you, o' mighty demon mage."

It was easy to hide his concerns about the upcoming discussion with the Grand King into the familiar banter with Yaku, and Kuroo was sure Yaku was doing it as much for his sake as for the sake of normalcy. Recently, nothing had been normal…

…and everyone needed a bit of normalcy amid the rising tensions. Kuroo included. 


	3. black rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without his glasses, he felt a little too vulnerable, a little too like one of the monsters his father had always told bedtime stories about (and which had made Kei afraid to sleep). Every time during those nights, he had gone to Akiteru's room and slept with him because big brothers were supposed to drive the bad dreams away for their younger siblings. That's what Akiteru always said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what to warn you about other than the obvious (look at the tags of the fic). 
> 
> Kay, it was fun so long as it lasted.

The Knight and the King were arguing, that much was obvious to Kuroo as he lingered behind the small oaken door that led into the throne room. He couldn't hear the exact words through the thick wood, but the volume was enough to convey the irritation, the hurt, the impatience.

 _Ah, ah, a lover's quarrel,_  Kuroo smirked to himself as he lowered the hood from his head, hand then trying to soothe his permanent case of disastrous hair.  _I wish they'd just get together already and spare us from the sexual tension._  Unfortunately, Iwaizumi Hajime was stubbornly aware of the rules of the royalty, even of the demonic kind, and this his loyalty to Oikawa remained strictly platonic and professional. Or so Iwaizumi tried to keep it.

 _Oh, geesh._ Kuroo shook his head in amusement at the thought as he pushed the door open before him, quipping a "You called me, O' Grand King?", which effectively brought the argument between Oikawa and Iwaizumi down for the time being.

The throne room itself wasn't anything remarkable — stone walls, some large windows, the throne, some emblems here and there, but nothing else — but it was Oikawa's favorite out of every other in the sturdy castle, like the gardens were Kuroo's.

"Ah, Kuro-chan." Oikawa was sitting on his throne, head tilted to a side and cheek pressed against the back of his hand in a haughty manner. "You made it after all this time." Iwaizumi stood before Oikawa, tension radiating off of him in waves, and Kuroo gave a quiet but impressed whistle. The tension was almost  _unbearable_  even by Kuroo's standards.

"Don't tell me your lover's quarrel was over me," Kuroo laughed as he allowed the door slide shut behind him. "Please, I'm not into dating royalty, Knight-kun. Save your jealousy for someone else."

The knight, in full armor but still energetic enough to glare daggers at Oikawa, slowly turned to look at Kuroo with a wrinkled nose. "Disgusting," he said, and nothing more as he walked past Kuroo and out the door, as if the sight of the two demons made him sick.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. "He sure left in a hurry, didn't he."

Oikawa's half-lidded eyes never even turned to look at Iwaizumi's abrupt departure. "Oh, Iwa-chan is in one of his  _moods_ ," he said, flicking his free hand dismissively like Iwaizumi's abrupt departure didn't bother him in the least. Kuroo, knowing better, saw the flash in Oikawa's brown eyes. "Not that I care or anything of what my peasant does."

Kuroo snorted. "You did so well pretending not to care, and then you had to add  _peasant._ "

Oikawa grimaced. "Was it too much?"

"Definitely too much," Kuroo agreed as Oikawa's proud posture crumbled down, the King slumping against the back of his throne.

"I knew it," Oikawa moaned pitifully. "I can't play the role of an Awful King at all, can I? I'm too wonderful for that."

Kuroo gave a hearty laugh at Oikawa's self-esteem before kneeling down on one knee before the throne, arms pressed against the other. "Well, regardless," he said, "here I am at your complete mercy, your ever so Grand Kindness."

"You're making fun of your King, Kuro-chan," Oikawa sniffed, raising his leg up as though he had the intention of kicking Kuroo.

"Not at all."  _A little._

Oikawa huffed as he straightened himself on the throne, the swinging leg coming back down to the floor it belonged on. Kuroo grinned shamelessly. "You're so mean to your benefactor," the young ruler sighed, all drama and no bite. "Speaking of benefactors, though…" Oikawa's eyes narrowed into slits as he gave Kuroo a once-over. "I heard you've been out doing some charity of your own." The word  _again_  hung in the air, oppressively curious.

Kuroo's eyes narrowed in response as he contemplated Oikawa's possible reactions. Supposedly, in the most likely and best scenario, Oikawa would feel pity for their fellow demon and let him stay as long as Kei wanted to — as long as moving anywhere else was unsafe. The worst case was Oikawa kicking Kei out because of some idiotic sense of ownership over the castle and its people, but that was very unlikely to happen.

"I'd like to call it  _saving lives_ ," Kuroo said slowly when Oikawa stared at him unblinkingly.

"Oh, don't think I don't know about your earlier attempts at that," the demon king sighed. "I'm surprised you managed, this time. All your previous efforts were in vain."

Kuroo's chest ached at the words, but his face stayed unreadably smug. "I suppose I should stop trying so hard, since this time it was purely coincidental." He thought about all the other times, all the villages that had turned against their own when a demon was discovered. Kuroo remembered the thick smell of burning flesh, and a sense of being too late.

Of  _always_  being too late.

Kuroo's lips curled down solemnly as the lives of those that had been lost weighed his shoulders, the ghostly fingers pressing against his throat until breathing was a labor instead of a habit.

"You have the devil's luck… or perhaps the halfbreed has," Oikawa hummed pleasantly, a little gently as though he was aware of the direction Kuroo's thoughts had gone. "Though, considering we're all devils here, that doesn't say much."

Kuroo tried to laugh. "Oho, you heard about my speculations, then?"

Oikawa tilted his head, a small smile perched upon his lips. An empty, distant one. "Yes, and I agree with your deduction," he said, bringing both his hands to his lap before entwining his fingers. "Oh, and you can stand up. You don't look too good on your knees."

Kuroo stood up. "Thank you so much." Sarcasm was fully intended, and Oikawa cracked a tentative, but genuine, smile at it, but Kuroo couldn't help noticing how sunken his whole face was, the look accompanied by eye bags and nail-  _and_  lip-biting.

"Kuro-chan, there were some unpleasant news I received earlier," Oikawa closed his eyes, lips settled into a thin line as he pulled his legs up, arms wrapping around them and chin leaning over to settle over knees. "Karasuno was burnt down a couple days ago."

"Oh?"

OIkawa buried his face into his knees, shoulders sagging. "That's where Tobio-chan went, you know."

And suddenly, it all made a little more sense.

.

.

.

Kageyama Tobio hadn't had a home in some time now, so seeing his apartment burnt down to a crisp didn't matter much to him. The closest thing to an emotional attachment he had had there was possibly the old picture of him and stepbrother, which was now gone forever. Much like the relationship with the said stepbrother, actually.

Tobio felt a sliver of regret, but he tried not to dwell on it too long, especially since the group led by Sawamura-san would head off soon again. Therefore standing in the destroyed section of the village really did nothing useful. It wasn't logical. Well, that's what Tsukishima would have told him, Tobio mused, adjusting the bow that hung from his back. He had almost forgotten the presence beside him when he was spoken to.

"It's a pity," Sawamura told him, patted his shoulder for encouragement. He had been the one to find Tobio standing around the charcoal that had once made up his house. "Did you lose anything of value?"

"Nothing." Tobio pursed his lips. "It was just a temporary apartment anyway." His heart and head felt hollow, but it was much lighter than the negative feelings he had wallowed in before meeting Hinata and the rest of the group. Tobio allowed himself a slight smile as he glanced at Sawamura Daichi, whose broad shoulders supported everyone and whose hands tugged them to better paths.

But no one could do much alone, in the end; Sawamura Daichi, too, knew this, Tobio saw it from the hard lines of his profile, the tight downcurve of his mouth.

They still hadn't found Tsukishima. As much as it usually wouldn't bother Tobio, this time the circumstances were different, and even he felt uneasy. Half the physical village was gone, and neither Tsukishima brother had shown their faces to them yet. Obviously it was a cause for concern.

"He's not here," Tobio said unhelpfully and very flatly, just as Hinata burst over, his travel-cloak's fabrics fluttering. Tobio barely managed to dodge the ginger-haired whirlwind in time. "Dumbass, slow down!"

"Stop being such a grouch, Kageyama," Hinata snickered, but it held a nervous, trembling undertone that promised nothing good. Tobio pursed his lips, glancing at Daichi. He too had noticed the change in the usually easygoing, upfront teen.

"What is it?" Daichi asked, turning away from the remnants of Tobio's makeshift home. Tobio did, too. Together with Daichi, they followed Hinata, who led them meekly through the mess that had once made up the village of Karasuno.

"The villagers said there were two demons," Hinata said, wringing his hands anxiously as they crossed the still functioning bridge over the deep river that ran across the village. "One had really small horns, and the other didn't have any."

"How could they tell the other was—?" Tobio questioned, but Daichi clutched at his shoulder to keep him quiet.

"Right, that's what I was wondering, too! But then I thought it's because people are idiots and kill people who side with demons, too, so I was like  _maybe that's why,_ but…" Hinata's fidgeting increased, and Tobio's eyes widened as he recognized the neighborhood they were at. The neighborhood he had spent the majority of his sixteenth year after his ties to his step family had been forcibly cut. Or what was left of it.

"Oi, Hinata," Tobio said. "Isn't this where Tsukishima lives?" It was confusing. They hadn't yet checked this part of the village, since they had only arrived a few hours prior and had, naturally, been attracted to the burnt-down half of their home.

The cobble-stoned streets were empty, now, the people locked inside their own houses, and it made the hair on the back of Tobio's neck stand up.

Hinata took a deep, trembling breath, his lips curling into an upset frown. "Sawamura-san, Tsukishima's older brother— the villagers say he was the hornless one."

Daichi exhaled while Tobio tried to figure out what this meant.

"So," Daichi continued for Hinata, pitying the job of the messenger, "you're suggesting that they identified Tsukishima Akiteru as the other one due to his blood ties with the horned one."

"Yeah."

"Huh?" Tobio blinked, eyes widening a fraction as they all came to a halt in front of the Tsukishima household. In front of the house lay a half-burnt corpse of what had once been Tsukishima Akiteru. Most of him was unrecognizable, skin melted against bones and burn marks covering the rest of him, but the tuft of blond hair and the nearly unburnt part of his face were enough for them.

Hinata, Tobio, and Daichi all stared at the sight, ignoring other members of their group that had gathered around them and Akiteru.

"That means Tsukishima Kei is the other one," Daichi continued, a statement instead of a question.

"Uh-huh." Hinata sounded like he was struggling to keep his emotions in. Neither Sawamura nor Tobio was sure how to comfort the boy, honestly.

"Does this change anything?" Tobio asked.

"Hm?" Sawamura was now looking at him instead of the disfigured face that lay on the street, one brown eye dim with dead desperation.

Tobio sighed impatiently, though his eyes remained on Tsukishima Akiteru's motionless corpse. "He's still our comrade, isn't he?" he said, voice flat and almost unaffected, but how could it entirely be that when his (dare he say it) friend's brother lay dead on the street he had walked on numerous times before? There was no way to stop the soft quiver behind his words, which luckily was mostly imperceptible to others. "No matter whether he's human or not."

"Obviously!" Hinata huffed, offended that Tobio would assume otherwise. "Even if he doesn't want to be."

"Let him have his own free will, boys," Sugawara, a priest that had lived in the village his whole life and had grown up with them all (minus Tobio), sighed and effectively startled both Hinata and Tobio with his sudden appearance. Daichi, on the other hand, simply grinned at his lifelong friend. "Wherever he is, Tsukishima-kun must be having a hard time dealing with everything on his own."

"If he's still alive," Sawamura added unhelpfully, and Sugawara jabbed at the fearless leader's side, a disapproving frown on his otherwise angel-like face.

"Daichi, don't scare the kids."

"We're eighteen," Hinata and Tobio grumbled (well, Hinata was nineteen, but he kept forgetting that), but neither were listened to as Sawamura and Sugawara started to quietly discuss the possibilities of the younger Tsukishima's whereabouts. Hinata, for once, stayed quiet and attentive as Tobio fell back into his inward musings, head heavy with thoughts about Tsukishima with whom he had hardly gotten along in the past.

Tobio's fingers curled tightly until the nails dug into the palm of his hand. He didn't want to lose any more important people in his life.

.

.

.

The second awakening was much less brutal than the first, or so Kei thought initially when his eyes didn't ache immediately at bright light that entered the room from a large window. Too large to be practical for a castle meant to protect its ruler. Kei blinked a few times to rid himself of the sleepy disorientation that fogged up his head, taking a slow breath to test how much it hurt. Surprisingly little.

The only ache he felt consistently was the one behind his eyes, and Kei was sure it was because of the whiskey that he hadn't even drunk that much. One shot glass, if even that.

At least the repercussions of that weren't turning out to be that bad. Kei wasn't sure what the ones from getting friendly with a demon, no matter how supposedly good-intentioned that demon was, would be.  _Probably not much worse than your horns being discovered by superstitious, prejudiced people you grew up with,_ he deduced and the feeling of dread he had pushed away previously hit him in full force.

"Ugh," he grumbled as he pushed himself into a sitting position, minding his injured sides. The pain wasn't obvious when he lay down, but sitting up sent a new flare of it through him, resulting in a whimper that attracted immediate attention from the occupants of the room he hadn't noticed prior to this moment.

"Seems like Charity-kun has awakened!" That unsettlingly cheerful voice was enough to knock the breath out of Kei's lungs out of sheer uneasiness it created within him, and Kei grimaced at himself as he squinted until his eyes settled on a man in his twenties and his obviously royal, gold-embroidered garbs. The most obvious thing about him were the large, curving horns, much larger than Kuroo Tetsurou's or Kei's own pair. If they were a sign of power, well, then this brown-haired man was definitely dangerous.

 _Grand King Oikawa_.

"Good morning, Charity-kun," the King hummed, and Kei's eyes moved to Kuroo seated on another bed, one leg crossed over the other and hands on his knee. He flashed a bright, but troubled, grin at Kei. Disgusting. "I hope your sleep was good."

The King's voice was sugary sweet, very different to Kuroo's naturally easy-on-the-ears tone. "Would be better if I woke up elsewhere, honestly," Kei muttered, biting at his lower lip.  _Draw a line before you with salt, and that'll keep the demons away._ If only he had salt right now.

He willfully ignored the fact that he, too, was part of them.

"I'm sure you would," the King murmured as he skipped over, closer to Kei, and plopped down next to Kuroo on the adjacent bed. "Unfortunately for you, that's not how this reality works, Tsuki-chan."

"What the-"

"Oh, that? Kuro-chan relays me all information he finds out. It's sort of what he does best." Oikawa's smile was teasing, though not as menacing as Kei had first thought it to be. Kei furrowed his brow, cautious but almost thankful for the disruption before his thoughts could have wandered to the events that had led to his separation from Akiteru.

"I thought he was a dark mage," he said flatly, glad that he hadn't stuttered despite the cold fear prickling his stomach. "He doesn't seem like an information broker. No offense, Kuroo-san." Except that he did, Kei admitted to himself. Information brokers were sleazy and mysterious and all in all shady, just like Kuroo. Kei bit at his lip harder to keep himself from voicing that thought out loud.

"None taken," Kuroo hummed, the tension on his face dissipating for the time being. "See, I told you he's a polite one, Oikawa."

"Fear does that, though," the King hummed. "Wouldn't you want to see what Tsuki-chan's like in his natural environment with none of these silly society rules bounding him to semi-polite responses that may or may not be true to his real self?"

"Could you please not call me that," Kei interjected, his fingers fidgeting as he glanced down at his lap and the tunic he had been made to wear at some point when he had been unconscious. He stared at the embroidered patterns on the beige fabric, focusing his attention on them instead of the lack of weight over his nose and ears.

Without his glasses, he felt a little too vulnerable, a little too like one of the monsters his father had always told bedtime stories about (and which had made Kei afraid to sleep). Every time during those nights, he had gone to Akiteru's room and slept with him because big brothers were supposed to drive the bad dreams away for their younger siblings.  _That's what Akiteru always said._

He could feel the King's eyes on him, and Kei pursed his lips, shoulders tensing. The pain should be easier to focus on than Oikawa's piercing eyes, but for some reason it wasn't.

Weak.

He was weak, and not just physically against the King.

_No surprise there, Kei._

"Hmmm? Am I not  _allowed_  to call you Tsuki-chan, Tsuki-chan?" Kei bristled at the tone he recognized as arrogant superiority, one that he had been forced to listen to his whole  _life_  from his human father. It was irritating. It was  _humiliating._

And he just — he just needed his brother, his completely human-passing brother that knew the ways of the world and that had always promised to be there with Kei.

Kei straightened, suddenly, eyes widening as he remembered Akiteru. Shit.  _Shit._

"Oikawa, stop bullying him," Kuroo's sigh seemed to come from a distance, even though he was as close as Oikawa was. "Poor kid just woke up and looks like he's in pain again even without your provocation."

"Says the master or provoking people himself," Oikawa teased, but gave up with a pouty huff that sounded more fitting coming from a five-year-old's mouth. "Fine, fine. No  _Tsuki-chan_ , then."

Kei cleared his throat, even though breathing was hard with the image of Akiteru's back burned into his mind. " _Just go, Kei,"_ the harshly spoken words echoed in his head. " _I'll catch up later! Just_ _ **go**_ _, Kei! You know that place I told you about? Go there. I'll meet you there."_  Kei's hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the pale-colored fabric of the tunic.

He didn't need to look to know Kuroo was looking at him. He could feel those eyes on him, the way they observed the stllness of Kei's shoulders and the tension on his neck. He might even have been able to see the burden Kei felt on his shoulders, the load of not knowing where his brother was. The golden eyes that seemed almost all-knowing, omniscient even though Kei was sure there was no such being.

They made Kei very uncomfortable — as though he couldn't hide a thing from Kuroo.

"Say, Tsukki." Speak of the devil,  _he_ started talking. Kei resisted the urge to look in his direction. "Are you from Karasuno?"  _Ah. So maybe that's why the King's here, as well. To get some information out of me. Maybe even torture me if I don't answer in a way he would like me to._

Kei took his time to consider his options. He could lie, but why would he do that? To spite the clearly physically stronger demons? He had already noted Kuroo's muscles beneath that ridiculously bright cloak of his, and they were nothing to laugh at. And, well, who even wanted to mess with a dark mage when they could turn you into a frog or something deformed? Kei wasn't prideful nor stupid enough to do that.

"Yes." That was a simple enough an answer, even though saying it made his insides quiver as the memory of burning houses and Akiteru's back resurfaced.

Kei was usually so good at pushing unnecessary thoughts off his mind, so why couldn't he do it now?

He pursed his lips into a thin line, waiting for the onslaught of other questions.

"So," Kuroo continued, voice gone surprisingly quiet and serious. Gentle, even, if Kei really tried to read Kuroo from his voice alone, "it's safe to assume that one of the so called 'Demon Brothers of Karasuno' is actually you?"

 _It's as though he knows this story can't have a happy ending,_  Kei thought, angry at the gentle tone Kuroo used with him. From a demon (again, what hypocrisy, but at least Kei was aware of it), it felt like humiliating arrogance.  _Poor little child, lost an so afraid,_ Kei heard in the undertone.

He inhaled, slow and deep until his ribs hurt again. He welcomed the sharp pain this time.

"If there's another pair of demons in Karasuno, I'm certainly not aware of it," Kei said dryly, sighing as he raised his head and cast an irritated, but respectful enough, look at the demons by his right side bed.

The King tilted his head back as a roar of laughter left him. "I like his sense of humor already. Absolutely  _precious._ "

"I wasn't kidding. I really have no clue," Kei said, shrugging his shoulder. "If that's what people call me…"

"They're so quick to come up with drastic nicknames," Kuroo laughed, a tense sound from the front of his throat, the farthest thing from genuine. Even Kei could hear it, and he didn't even  _know_  Kuroo. "I was called, ah,  _Nine-Lived Cat Eye_  for some reason. Lame, isn't it?" Kuroo wrinkled his nose in a comical way, and Kei's mouth almost quirked up. Almost.

"I don't know," Kei said honestly, shrugging as he sunk into himself again. "It seems fitting from what I know." At least the eye part did, if nothing else.

"Ow," Kuroo whined. "I don't deserve such lameness. I'm  _hurt_ , Tsukki! At least call me your hero, or something."

"I don't think anyone that saves others simply out of a selfish need to have someone owe them their lives is fit to be called a hero," Kei snapped, irritated and anxious when neither the King nor Kuroo made any effort to approach the real subject at hand. "Besides, it's obvious you want to say something, so just go ahead and do it." Kei paused, gritting his teeth. He hadn't meant to snap like that, but he was too far gone in his own worries already. "Please," he added, shoulders slumping as he lifted a hand to cover his face. "Just say it, whatever it is you have to say."

Kuroo's face twisted, some unreadable emotions appearing and shifting away before Kei could make notice of them. Oikawa watched them both, quietly observing the atmosphere.

"Tsukishima-kun," Kuroo closed his eyes, lips twitching, and Kei's fingers curled tighter into beige fabric. Unbearable.

He didn't want to be there with these two, he just wanted to find Akiteru.

"Your brother's been found dead."

He just wanted to hear Akiteru tell him everything was going to be all right, no matter how childish that want (no, need) made him.

"No." Kei's lips turned into a slow smile, tight as his eyes closed and crinkled at the corners from the force of the fake expression. "You must be mistaken; Akiteru followed me after the villagers—" After the villagers had seen the small, dark yellow-ish horns that were barely visible in the midst of Kei's golden blond strands of hair. After the villagers had screeched horrible things at them, after the first rocks had been thrown.

After everything that had made up their lived had basically been cast aside.

After surviving in that forest for two days with nothing but out-of-season berries and water from moist moss, how could he accept that Akiteru wasn't going to come get him?

Kei inhaled.

There wasn't enough room in his lungs.

Kei inhaled again, sharp and strangled, his smile twitching mildly. "You're lying. Niichan will— niichan will—"

 _Niichan will come get you,_ Akiteru's parting words flashed through his mind.  _Just run, Kei._

"You're lying."

Kuroo and Oikawa exchanged glances, but Kei ignored them as his own internal conflict clutched him.

 _Hearing that wouldn't affect you so much if you didn't think it to be true,_ Kei thought to himself, cringing as he pulled his legs up and buried his face into his knees, something hot burning in his throat.


	4. eglantine rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was good at tuning this out. He had been doing so ever since the incident. He would not think about it. He would construct a future once Akiteru came back to get him — well, once Kei got out of the castle to find his brother.

Iwaizumi Hajime was paid to deal with a lot of shit on daily basis. Most of that shit, unsurprisingly, had a lot to do with Oikawa. ( _Everything_ to do with him, honestly.) If he weren't so familiar with the self-absorbed King's tendencies since young age, he might have given up; and if he didn't know that Oikawa wasn't as self-centered as the King was happy to let others think he was, it would be easier to not worry about Oikawa when he wasn't by his side.

Oikawa would laugh at him whenever he expressed that worry, half-muttering something like  _Iwa-chan, you have the instincts of a mother_ , and Iwaizumi had to remind himself that he shouldn't get so angry over Oikawa's sassy remarks since the point of them was to irritate him. Iwaizumi never quite managed to remain entirely unruffled even with that knowledge.

Currently, Iwaizumi Hajime was annoyed, and it was once again thanks to Oikawa, that persistent pain in every dip of Iwaizumi's body.

Annoyed, yet worried by what Oikawa had told him before sending Iwaizumi off to check the situation at Karasuno.

" _Are you fucking kidding me, Oik— ugh, my Lord—"_

" _Oh, you have called me worse than my name, let it be,"_ Oikawa had laughed it off with a shrug of his shoulders as his hands fiddled with the crown he never wore but which undoubtedly belonged to him. "… _and, no, I am not joking."_  Oikawa's smile had faded then, crumbled like shattered glass. Iwaizumi flinched at the memory of the look of reluctance coupled with a deep-etched pain.

" _You know why it has to be you, Iwa-chan, I'm sure you do."_

Ugh, he did, but just like how Iwaizumi knew why Oikawa would only send him for these information-gathering quests, Oikawa also knew the reason Iwaizumi was so reluctant to part from him.

_Who else would look after that asshole other than me?_

 

 

 

 

Tooru was a good horse, and even better companion on Iwaizumi's trip to Karasuno. It was arduous, and hard on the horse's legs, and Iwaizumi felt guilty for forcing the poor thing into galloping even when he should allow Tooru to rest a little longer. But there was an even bigger anxiety that drove him forward, and that was the safety of  _his_  dumbass Oikawa.

That anxiety led him through forests and open fields with uneven space and with breaks only to let Tooru to eat and rest enough. Iwaizumi was too restless to truly sleep, but at least he managed to eat the loaves of bread he had brought along with him, saving some for the trip back to the castle.

"Sorry, I know it's hard," he murmured to Tooru, patting at the horse on the side of his long neck once they reached the gates of the village. "I'll leave you to Ukai's care." The horse snorted, as if indignant that Iwaizumi was leaving him to someone else. "Tch, don't be a brat now, Tooru."

He found Ukai easily, his stables being at the outskirts of the village rather than in the midst of the chaos. Larger than usual buildings, it was impossible to miss them, and Tooru's ears twitched at the realization that other horses were nearby. Iwaizumi patted him comfortingly, murmuring reassurances as he got off the horse's back finally.

Ukai Keishin was the one that came to greet him and take Tooru by the reigns outside the building. Iwaizumi's shoulders relaxed a little — he was somewhat intimidated by the elder Ukai for no good reason — but only for a moment before tensing again when Keishin didn't quip a smile at him as he usually would for the young knight.

"Iwaizumi," Ukai acknowledged him with a nod and by taking the cigarette away from his lips, dropping and stumping it on the ground with his heel. "It's been some time."

_Stating the obvious is never a good sign._  "It has." Iwaizumi cleared his throat, his fingers holding onto Tooru's reigns as both he and the horse came to a halt before the other man, whose most distinctive features were his hair and his country-famous singing voice. Though the latter wasn't obvious and distinct in the current moment. "I heard there was, ah, demon sighting here a few days ago?"

"Yeah," Ukai's brow wrinkled in distaste. "Tsukishima brothers. Everyone sort of flipped their lids when they saw the younger one's horns; the results are in plain sight." Ukai reached for the Tooru's reigns, and Iwaizumi handed them over. "You here to investigate that? None of the superstitious hags will come forward to you, you know." Iwaizumi's fame for being a human greatly appreciated by the demon king was not the positive kind in the countryside, and certainly not in the capital either.

"I know." Iwaizumi pursed his lips. "I was going to start by asking what  _you_  know, since we're kind of friends." Drinking buddies on the rare occasion that Iwaizumi took time off of Oikawa and came down to Karasuno to celebrate his momentary freedom. (It sounded cruel, but there was only so much of awkward tension that Iwaizumi could take between him and his childhood friend.)

Ukai released a sigh. "I'll take him inside and then we can have a talk, alright." Iwaizumi noted the wrinkled nose, the anger flickering in Ukai's eyes, and that was an answer enough as to the results. He gave a nod, turning to look at the view of the village that opened up before his eyes. It was already a later part of afternoon, early evening really, but no one was outside. Everything was silent, as though—

As though the village had become a lifeless graveyard.

Iwaizumi scowled at the thought. If anything, he had expected the people be up in arms like the last time. Prejudiced people were the most violent, either physically or verbally or  _both_.

Regardless, the lifelessness of the entire village didn't feel right.

.

.

.

Kuroo frowned at the sight of Tsukishima's slumped back.

"How long has he been there, like that?" he asked Lev, one of the apprentices working under Yaku, eyes on Tsukishima's thin figure on the bench at the side of the garden. If he hadn't wanted to be bothered or seen, he should have gone deeper inside, Kuroo thought. There were much prettier flowers there, too, rather than just the rose bushes, but Tsukishima seemed content on just sitting at the entrance.

It had been about two (getting closer to three) days since Kuroo had picked him up, and a little less since he had told Tsukishima his older brother was dead, according to the initial information they had received.

A little less than two days of denial.

"A few hours," Lev said, disturbingly cheerful but that was due to ignorance. Kuroo didn't miss the frown that tugged at Lev's brows, though. "He's been refusing to eat again, Kuroo-san."

Kuroo's lips curled down in worry. "Maybe I need to have a talk with him." He was reluctant to do so, since pushing grieving people too far hardly ever led to good consequences. More often than not, it led to tears and screaming, but right now Kuroo was sure that maybe what Tsukishima Kei needed  _was_  a good, one-sided shouting match. At anyone, really, but especially Kuroo, the messenger or so the mage himself figured.

"The dirty jobs always land on me, huh?" Kuroo murmured, narrow eyes sharpening as he lazily eyed at Tsukishima's slumped back and hung head. "I'll see to it that he does, Lev. Thanks."

Lev nodded, his eyes wide and pupils narrow as he threw a look at Kuroo. "You're not very tactful, though, Kuroo-san, please be mindful—"

Kuroo elbowed the taller man on the ribs, laughing at the words. "That's coming from  _you_. I think I'll be fine, thank you very much."

.

.

.

The garden in the inner yard inside the castle was surprisingly large, Kei had discovered it when he had first found it during his mindless wandering around the castle after he had been allowed out from that room after drinking a pain-numbing potion. Perhaps it was his inherited demonic endurance that enabled him to walk around soon afterward, maybe it was the fact that he felt numb enough on the inside to ignore the possibility of opening his wounds.

Kei knew there was more than just the large rose bushes and the arch up which ivies climbed and curled around.

But he had a reason as to why he found the flush greenery calming and saddening at the same time, though he couldn't tear himself away from the bench he had been sitting on for hours now. And later he would come again to occupy it after everyone, except the guards, had gone to sleep.

Some distant part of himself realized that it was his refusal to acknowledge the possibility of Kuroo's words, the possibility that Akiteru was never going to make it to his side and never smile at him again and tell him everything was going to be okay. Kei would snort at him and pretend like he hadn't been scared, when in reality Akiteru's words always brought relief.

Majority of Kei fully ignored that part of himself that was ready to consider such a thing.

The scents of flora calmed him somewhat, bringing his thought processes somewhere close to  _nonexistent_. Kei wasn't the type to not think, because he had been raised with the belief that a moment of thoughtlessness would come with a great cost. As it had, in the end, when he hadn't reacted quickly enough to wrap the scarf from Akiteru around his head when it had fallen.

But, gods, he really needed a place where he didn't have to think.

"Hey, you."

Kei didn't give a reaction when Kuroo plopped down next to him, even though he felt his stomach sinking in disgust. "Go away," he said, voice hoarse and thick as he forced the words past the lump in his throat. His eyes were dry. They would remain so, because his brother was  _not dead._

"Rude," Kuroo's laughter sounded easygoing, caring. "This is my favorite place, though."

Kei wondered if he had been wrong to trust his father's superstitious stories about demons all this time. "Hmm," he hummed, disinterested but he was sure that wouldn't stop Kuroo from talking his ears off. He wasn't going to drive the mage away — too much effort — but regardless, Kei wished the silence would come back. Even though he knew Kuroo's voice offered him a decent distraction from his thoughts.

"It is, really," Kuroo continued, knocking his knee against Kei's. Kei didn't pull away. "I don't have much of skill when it comes to gardening, but I can still enjoy the results of others' skills."

"I never thought you'd appreciate something like that," Kei couldn't help saying, mentally sighing as he grasped the offered distraction. He knew what Kuroo was doing, he really did, but maybe he could allow himself a little bit of respite from his own mind. The flowery scents that drifted through the air had done their own job of jostling the unwarranted nostalgia within him, which wasn't a very good thing when he tried to ignore the possibility of...

_Akiteru,_ the name echoed off the corners of his mind.

Kei sighed, swallowing tightly after, and turned to look at Kuroo. As expected, the golden eyes are on him, observing Kei quietly and with a hint of understanding. Then, Kuroo grinned, and Kei saw the dimples that formed on his cheeks — and, well, regardless of how sleazy Kuroo's face was, the sight was nice, and Kei felt a little more at ease. That smile was so  _human_  to him somehow, even more so than some of the smiles he had seen on the villagers' faces during his childhood.

"I'm full of surprises," Kuroo said as he spread his arms over the back of the banch, the other draping over Kei's shoulder loosely. "If you let me surprise you, anyway."

That was a kind of a stupid line Kei figured he'd only read in romance novels, and it made him snort just a little. "I don't need surprises in my life right now, thanks," he said sarcastically, staring down at his lap instead of Kuroo's face. The hollowness in his chest was— Kei swallowed, his mouth dry.

"I guess so," Kuroo relented before heaving out a quiet, wistful sigh as his eyes moved to the red and white roses Kei had been eyeing earlier. "But it's a good surprise, Tsukki, I promise — the rest of the garden." Kei ignored the nickname Kuroo had given him. It was a stupid nickname, somethng that he had dealt with growing up (Yamaguchi  _never_  stopped calling him that); the sense of familiarity was a little too unbearable.

He missed home.

He missed the flowers Akiteru grew in the backyard, the immaculate arrangement of plants that Akiteru took care of, and the childhood summers Kei used to help Akiteru, his fingers getting dirty from the soil.

"I don't want to see the rest," he muttered, fingers clenching and unclencing around the fabric of the tunic he had been given, clearly made of expensive material that Kei couldn't afford himself. Cotton was what he was used to. "This is enough."  _This is enough._

"Ah, c'mon," Kuroo laughed and nudged at Kei with his hips. Only now did Kei shift away from Kuroo, a little further than necessary. "I really want to show you the cool stuff, honestly. It's not everyday event that I meet someone who's into flowers, like me."

"Who said I was  _into—_ " Kei snapped, entwining his fingers with one another as he chastised himself for losing his nerve.

"Well, if you hated it, you wouldn't stay here," Kuroo hummed, though his tone was softer than before, comforting like a soft breeze. "Besides, you need to walk. Your ass would probably appreciate a little bit of exercise, too."

"You're really insistent, Kuroo-san." Kei sighed, but stood up to his wobbling legs. He should have eaten something before. "Let's see this amazing thing of yours," left his mouth with an icy, distant tone. Anxiety filtered into the words in a slight stutter, which Kuroo took note of and frowned at.

Kei stood up abruptly. The following sensation of light-headedness made him pause, eyelids fluttering shut as his head buzzed with the nasty static of dizziness. Two sharp intakes of breath did very little to alleviate the feeling, but he wasn't going to faint. Kei glanced at Kuroo, adjusting the flasses on his face in agitation. "Well?" he asked, the word meeker than he intended.

At least he didn't feel as vulnerable as before when he hadn't had his glasses. Looking at Kuroo was a little easier that way.

Kuroo eyed him, his expression unreadable — it made Kei queasy, not knowing what went through his head. Maybe this was a tale of Little Red Riding Hood all over again, with Kuroo starring as the wolf and Kei as the Little Red. The again, Kei was currently surrounded by hordes of them, including the King himself, and anything Kuroo might do was probably less evil than the Grand King's persona.

"You really need to eat someting, you know," Kuroo said as he stood up, the red cloak fluttering around his movements as came to Kei's side and tugged lightly at Kei's pale wrist. "I promise you, none of the chefs are assholes that poison their stuff on purpose." There was none of that snarky carefree attitude that Kei had come to expect from him, and  _okay fine_ he knew he should eat something soon, because even a half-demon needed nutrition and energy to keep living.

_But how do you go on living when everything you've always known has been taken from you in one sweeping moment?_  Kei bit at his lower lip again as he pushed the thought aside. He was good at tuning this out. He had been doing so ever since the incident. He would not think about it. He would construct a future once Akiteru came back to get him — well, once Kei got out of the castle to find his brother.

This whole thing was a fucking mess.

"Fine," Kei repeated, if only because he could almost hear Akiteru nagging at him for the same thing. "Let's get this over with."

 

 

 

 

The inside of the garden, partially hidden by the brick-built entrance decorated by the ivy, was gorgeous and Kei's stomach lurched a little bit at the sight of it. The rose bushes that surrounded the area were  _nothing_  compared to the rainbow of colors that greeted him once he made it through the arched entryway.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?" Kuroo grinned at his side, contented by Kei's stiff silence of amazement. "We've been growing these ever since Oikawa moved here from Shiratori."

Kei barely registered the words as his senses filled with flowery scents, some sweeter than others. For some, it might have been overwhelming, but Kei found it soothing. A little like the summers spent in their small backyard with Akiteru ad watching flowers as Akiteru explained sheepishly what they meant in flower language.

"The arrangement is a mess, though," Kei commented, with nonexistent malice as his lips twitched at the mess of colors and mess of flowers. "There are tulips amongst violets."

There were different varieties of flowers, some that would only bloom nighttime, and there was no obvious rule as to how they had been settled over the are. In fact, it seemed like a miscalculated chaos — somebody had given up and just tossed flower seeds all over the place without a care. Somehow, Kei imagined that somebody to be the Grand King himself, and he snickered at the thought. The sound was hollow, but sincere.

"Sometimes life is a chaos," Kuroo hummed pleasantly as he sat down on a flowerless patch of grass, tugging Kei down with him. "I think it's meant to represent that."

Kei sat down on his knees next to Kuroo, cringing at the stiffness on his upper back and neck. "Is that supposed to be poetic?" he muttered as he looked at the display of color before them with an expression that was almost awed. As close to as his face was to expression emotion these past days. He turned his head slightly to sneak a glance at Kuroo's face, noting the curve of his jaw and the warm color of his skin.

Objectively speaking, he was pleasing to the eyes just as much as the flowers were.

Kei turned back to the greenery, angry at his own thoughts.

"Not unless you want it to be," Kuroo laughed, and bumped their shoulders playfully together. "I'll have you know, I have a way with words that leaves even Oikawa jealous."

Kei snorted. "I doubt that; the King's tongue seems slippery enough."

"My tongue  _can_  be slippery, you just haven't noticed yet."

"It wasn't a compliment," Kei retorted, but he almost laughed in the same breath. It was hard to take notice of the horns in the mids of Kuroo's black hair when Kuroo was grinning like Kei's company was enjoyable.

"Sure it wasn't," Kuroo teased him, and his arm draped over Kei's shoulders with calculated ease, testing whether it was too much. Kei didn't move away from the warmth, if only because he had been feeling cold this entire time. "Your tongue's not as sharp as you'd like me to believe, either."

"You don't even know me."  _I have insulted you and your entire kind in my head at least fifteen times a day, because that's somehow better than thinking about what you told me._  "I could still be an asshole."

"Let me make up my own mind about that," Kuroo said, his tone taking a serious note as he looked at Kei. "So far, everything you've done or said is understandable because of all the traumas you probably have, you know? Living peacefully as you probably did, getting chased out of your home isn't exactly what you're used to."

"Sure," Kei said sarcastically, eyes lingering on the wormwood that grew at the edges of the garden. "…Wormwood isn't a native of this land," he said, frowning at the plant.

"Yeah, well," Kuroo winked at him. "Some would call it magic."

Kei gave him the blankest stare he could muster.

Kuroo's grin didn't waver in the least. "I'll tell you about it later, if you're that interested, Tsukki. For now…" Kuroo took his arm off from Kei's shoulders, shifted around a bit as he lay down on his back with eyes staring up at the sky above them. "…I feel like taking a nap."

Kei didn't respond to that.

"You need sleep, too." Kuroo was annoyingly observant for someone whose hair was a natural disaster area. Kei grit his teeth, balled his hands into fists, and the urge to yell  _you're not my brother_  was a sudden, hot feeling inside his throat. It took so little to piss him off when he was like this, when he was high-strung and stiff and heart cracking at the scent of what used to be.

But Kuroo wasn't  _nagging_ , Kuroo wasn't intentionally pissing him off, and Kei bit at his lower lip and swallowed his negative emotions. He swallowed them, and buried them under everything else, like he always did.

It was going to bite him one day, probably.

"I can't sleep," Kei instead told him, shrugging his shoulders when the golden, half-lidded eyes stared imploringly at him. Kei's stomach flipped, unnerved by the look. "It's none of your business either, Kuroo-san," he added in a mutter, pulling his legs up. "How am I supposed to believe you're not going to make soup out of me if I sleep?"

That earned a loud, rambunctious laughter from Kuroo, and Kei watched him with pinched nose. The fit of laughter shook Kuroo's whole body, limbs trembling with the genuine laugh. "Oh, my god, Tsukki. We don't eat people," he managed between shaky breaths, and Kei saw actual tears in Kuroo's eyes. "Do people really tell kids that? That's freaking  _hilarious._ "

Kei's face grew hot, possibly turning even darker than Kuroo's cloak, and Kuroo laughed harder. "Oh, my god, they do. Holy shit, Yaku told me people were ridiculously afraid of us, but  _fuck…_ "

"I thought it sounded a little too much like a hoax," Kei admitted in a sigh as his shoulders slumped. "You can stop laughing now, Kuroo-san."

Kuroo snickered a few moments longer before pulling himself into a sitting position again, this time shuffling close enough to Kei for their thighs to touch and their shoulders to collide. Kei gave him a long, wary look I return, embarrassment still heavy on his mind. Kuroo's grin was too much up close, and he looked away quickly with burning cheeks.

"I wasn't laughing at you," Kuroo said with a gentle lilt to his voice that was like a cat's purr. "Trust me, I know what it's like to grow up when everyone's telling you all these shitty things about others different from you."

A sound of something being plucked from the ground made Kei's head rise up again. A lavender, thornless rose between Kuroo's fingers, at which Kuroo smiled. Kei stared at the way Kuroo's fingers played with the short stem of the flower.

"But I bet we have already broken a few of those stupid urban legends by now," Kuroo hummed as he leaned over to tuck the flower behind Kei's ear, fingers lingering against the shell of the other's quickly reddening ear. It made him dizzy again.

_You're really, really dehydrated._

"I guess," Kei snorted weakly. "Who has ever heard of a flower-loving demon?"

"You see?" Kuroo snickered as he patted Kei's cheek. "We're off to a great start."

"We're  _not—_ " Kei insisted as Kuroo tugged him down with him. "Ow— what  _the—_ "

"Take a nap with me, will you?" Kuroo hummed. "We both need some rest after all the stress."

_He's completely ignoring that he just pulled me on top of himself,_ Kei thought irritably as he pushed himself free from Kuroo, but settled to lie next to him regardless.

"Just because you're insistent," Kei told him, turning onto his side but careful to not disturb the flower tucked behind his ear.  _Ugh, he doesn't even know that this is what Akiteru used to do. This whole garden and tucking flowers behind my ears thing. How uncool is it that I still like it after all these years?_

But it was better that way. Kei would get out of there soon enough.

"Thank you." Kei closed his eyes, insistently ignoring the relieved tone Kuroo's voice held.  _You're imagining things again, Kei._

_._

_._

_._

 

After parting from Ukai Keishin, Iwaizumi spent his time strolling around the village and doing his best to ignore just how eerie it all was. The only sounds he could hear asides from the river were the wind and Iwaizumi's own footsteps. On occasion, he might have heard something like a crow cawing.

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself as he entered Tsukishimas' house, armor clanking irritably loudly as he checked through the rooms. It was a surprise the villagers hadn't burnt the house down after Tsukishima Akiteru's swift and merciless death by torches, but Iwaizumi supposed some superstitions were too strong to go against.

He knew the brothers were obviously gone from the picture, but what surprised him was that their father had fled the village as soon as his sons had been caught.  _Despicable,_  he thought, his gut wrenching in disgust as he looked through all the rooms. Most of the existing property had been left behind — the furniture, obviously, couldn't be taken with only a moment's notice, but some things were obviously missing. Personal belongings, for example. Any pictures of family.

( _Why take the pictures if you leave your sons behind?_ )

Iwaizumi honestly wanted to punch the man that owned the house, if only because he was eerily reminded of his and Oikawa's childhood.

Speaking of Oikawa…

" _You're the only one I can trust to always come back to me,"_ the quietly spoken words rang through Iwaizumi's head. " _Breathing and very much alive. Because Iwa-chan's invincible, isn't he?"_ Oikawa's smile at the time had been fragile, almost breakable, and that had been the reason Iwaizumi had left his side this time.

Iwaizumi shook his head as he entered one of the bedroom, quickly glancing around until has gaze fell onto a table. A lonely, red-cased book lay on it, the bright color the only thing that distinguished it from its surroundings.

There was some moral ambiguities about going through people's things, but Iwaizumi supposed he had given up on some of his morals a long time ago when people had given up on Oikawa just due to the blood in his veins.

Iwaizumi opened the book, and took a deep breath in. On the first page, the letters plainly spelled out  _Tsukishima Akiteru's journal._

He took a long inhale of air into his longs before he flipped to the next page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, and thanks to everyone who has left a comment so far u//v//u


	5. yellow chrysanthemum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Compassion," Kei tried the word, listened to the quivering syllables stumbling past his lips.
> 
> Kuroo grinned like the devil against Kei's shoulder before lifting his head up, nose bumping against Kei's cheek. "Yeah. I'm sure you know the word."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you remove "slow build" tag and this happens  
> sighs

He didn't sleep.

Even if he tried to, he couldn't. It was the same issue which had kept waking him up when he had tried before.

Akiteru.

But at least Kuroo's warmth by his side — a respectable distance away, but Kei could still feel the heat — made things a little more bearable, and the silence in his head was easier to maintain.

Kei turned slightly to look at the perpetrator in question. Kuroo lay on his back, hair ever so messy on his face, and arms tucked behind his head in a manner that made Kei think he was trying to block out all sound. With pillows, it might have worked. There was none, though, and Kuroo looked kind of stupid like that.

He had to once more question his own perception of Kuroo. Despite the sly face and laidback attitude, he wasn't  _bad_  in a way Kei had first expected. And alright, maybe Kei was a prejudiced prick. Yeah. He could admit that much. He was still alive, after all.

Kuroo wasn't at all like the monsters his father had made demons out to be. Like he had made Kei's mother out to be. (It hurt because in the same breath, Kei's father would mull over how Kei looked similar to his mother.)

Kei's chest ached with an old longing, and he pulled himself up as a fit of restlessness washed over him. Legs pulled up, Kei spent the next few moments with his forehead pressed down against his knees, the hem of the tunic sliding lower`on his legs. The flower that Kuroo had tucked behind his ear before was still in its place, its petals tickling at the shell of his ear.

Lifting his head up again, his gaze returned to Kuroo's peaceful face and the dips and contours of his skin. It was a pity his eyes were closed, since they were mesmerizing in their own right with that glimmering color of gold that reminded Kei of sunset-painted horizons. Kei's lips curled into a self-depreciating smirk. It was kind of pathetic how Kuroo managed to put him at ease even without knowing anything about Kei.

Well — he did know some things now, but nothing that the situation hadn't called for (the wheat allergy was probably the most personal thing so far).

Kei stared at Kuroo's face longer than he had any right to. It was probably creepy, but honestly, it was either Kuroo or the flowers, and Kei knew which one would hurt him more at this point.

Not that Kuroo wasn't able to.

He just hadn't, except with that extravagant lie about Akiteru.

(But was it a lie?)

Even then, Kuroo had seemed reluctant and regretful, if Kei had read his expression correctly.

 _I'm thinking too much,_ Kei realized with vague annoyance as his fingers played with the lavender rose, pulling it away from his ear. The color was pretty and easy on the eyes, pale like early mornings and summer nights, and the petals were soft against Kei's restless fingers.

Brown eyes trailed back to Kuroo for a moment, to the disastrous black hair, to the small locket around Kuroo's neck that Kei hadn't noticed before. Then he looked down at Kuroo's relaxed body, at the attire beneath the red cloak, grimacing at the patterns of gold he saw. Clearly royalty, or at least favored by them… him. The pants looked suprisingly like cotton or something as common and cheap, and Kei blinked in confusion at the fabric disaster in front of him.

 _Who even dressed you,_ Kei wondered as his flowerless hand thoughtlessly reached out to Kuroo's cloak, fingers clenching around the soft fabric of one of the sleeves. It was softer than it looked… no wonder Kuroo didn't seem to want to take it off. The cloak was probably the only piece of clothing that Kei could say he approved of. Red looked pretty good on Kuroo, after all. And he wasn't even going to think about Kuroo's shoeless feet, no way.

What he could think about instead of was the slight smile that tugged at Kuroo's mouth and the dip of a dimple that showed whenever the smile widened just enough.

He sighed at himself as he brought his hand over Kuroo's face, fingers hovering over one cheek for a moment as Kei hesitated. His heart pounded against his ribs like a heavy hammer, loudly and hard as a faint fear numbed him. Kei took a slow breath, counted to five, and set his hand carefully on Kuroo's cheek. Light enough to not wake the demon up, but firm enough for his fingertips to fully feel and appreciate the sensation of touch.

Kei breathed out again as his fingers trailed the skin and curves of the other's face. The skin wasn't exactly soft, Kuroo's cheeks having none of the baby fat Kei's still held, but it was easy (pleasant) to touch regardless. An adventure worth setting on. (Kei sighed at himself.)

Eyelids halfway down, he glanced nervously at Kuroo's closed ones as he slowly rubbed his thumb over Kuroo's cheek. It certainly didn't feel any different than his own. Kei wasn't even sure what he had expected — had he  _really_  imagined Kuroo's face to be made of marble? Ugh, no. That was ridiculous.

Kei's eyes narrowed as his fingers trailed down to the side of Kuroo's neck, searching for a pulse. He found it after a bit of awkward fumbling and continuous checking whether Kuroo was still sleeping.

The gold-flecked eyes stared back at him, some mild amusement apparent as Kei let out a startled half-screech before shoving a hand over his mouth. He noted the pleased, relaxed smile on Kuroo's lips again, but he quickly tore his eyes away from it.

"You should have said something if you were awake, Kuroo-san," Kei groaned into his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut out of the burning embarrassment. "I was just… ugh, I was just trying out something, don't say a word… Stop it with the smug grin,  _I can hear it._ " Kei shuffled back, cringing at the rough feeling of ground beneath his knees.

"I'm not grinning," said Kuroo between snickering.

Kei huffed at the sound. "You are."

"Okay, okay," Kuroo took a breath in. "I just didn't want you to stop, you know? It felt nice." Kei heard Kuroo pulling himself up beside him, the fabric of his clothes rustling with the movements. "It's been a while since someone touched me so gently." A hint of sadness crept into Kuroo's tone as his eyes narrowed, a pained look flitting across his face.

It was hard to look at Kuroo in the face after that. "…Don't expect me to feel bad for you. I'm not that kind," Kei muttered, trying to find some of that seething anger he had felt the first time he had met Kuroo. Or, rather, the same cold fear that had been present with him during the long hours he had spent wandering in the forest, trying to locate the place Akiteru had intended them to meet at.

"Maybe you're kinder than you think," Kuroo's voice was warm like the early autumn, like the setting sun and its vibrant colors. "I can't really blame you for trying to push people away as a self-defense mechanism, though." Kuroo's arm settled over Kei's shoulders clumsily, pulling him close but keeping the hold loose enough for Kei to move away if he wanted to.

"There's not enough nice beings in the world to make us feel completely at ease, after all," the demon murmured, and Kei nodded in agreement. "So let's make the most out of this relationship, yeah?"

"This is hardly a relationship," Kei deadpanned, but relaxed under Kuroo's touch just a little. "I may be in your debt, but that doesn't make us anything."

"Hey, hey," Kuroo's arm fell, the pleasant warmth gone from Kei's neck in an instant. "You're not in my debt."

"You saved my life," Kei said slowly, moving to face Kuroo again properly. "Isn't that how things usually go?"

Kuroo's lips curled down, eyebrows pulling into a frown like Kei's words displeased him. "I'm not going to make you pay for me for saving your life, Tsukki." The look in his eyes was hard and distant, as though Kuroo was curling into himself, putting up a barrier between them.

Kei didn't understand the negative reaction. "So, I'm technically free to walk from here if I so wish?" he asked skeptically, cocking an eyebrow at the other who flinched at the suggestion. "Thought so."

"Not for the reasons you think, Tsukki," Kuroo said softly. His arm reached out to Kei on instinct but it paused and hovered in the space between them. "I just don't know if you have a place to go anymore, and just…" His voice faded, seconds trickling into minutes. "I'd like to offer you at least some place to stay at, you know? It's not  _home_ , but it's safer than anywhere else."

"Who says I don't?" Kei was tired and the snappiness was coming back to him, the anger flooding him in waves. "My brother will— he had a plan. He will—" Why was he stumbling over his words like this? No, no, he didn't believe. He didn't believe that Akiteru was…

The denial was so much easier to bear when he wasn't forced to think about the events and the last glance Akiteru had thrown at his way.

Kei blinked a few times to rid himself of the prickling sensation in his eyes. "Don't," he spat when Kuroo opened his mouth again. "Don't you start; I'm not listening."

"Tsukki."

Kei's chest tightened at the kind tone, ribs aching as his heart broke and the sadness bled out into his expression. "Don't." Panic rose inside him. "Don't touch me."

Kuroo leaned back, startled, but he stayed still as Kei inched farther away from him, putting as much physical distance between them as possible without trampling flowers. Kei closed his eyes as the stinging sensation grew stronger. "Niichan isn't dead, he isn't."

He knew he sounded childish, especially as his voice had gone high-pitched at the end — and calling Akiteru  _niichan._ He swallowed thickly, eyes sliding shut as his body gave an abrupt jerk backwards again, twitches running up and down his arms. There was no breeze, but the temperature felt several degrees colder regardless.

Kuroo stayed quiet this time. Quite tactful of him, considering that Kei felt he would snap at any given moment if given enough reason to.

Kei took a deep breath, which sounded like a raspy scream in the silence that had fallen between them. Uncomfortable. Distressing. Kei needed to regain his composure, but the prickling behind his closed eyelids just wouldn't stop.

He inhaled again, wheezing as he couldn't fill his lungs with air like he had intended. A dizzy feeling swirled inside his head, and honestly, Kei would welcome passing out. He would welcome the nothingness, of not being aware of anything that was going on outside or inside himself.

He would welcome all of that instead of the growing numb, cold feeling in the back of his mind that said  _what if he won't come for you, Kei._

"Tsukki, please breathe," Kuroo broke the silence, sounding distressed. As he should, considering this was  _his fault,_ Kei thought distantly but unable to muster any real resentment towards the other. It wasn't like he could blame Kuroo for his separation from Akiteru, nor for the way things had turned out.

What he could blame him for was this crushing feeling of  _loss_  that Kei didn't want to feel.

"Shut up," Kei grunted, teeth grinding together. "I was enjoying myself almost, and you just—" He feels his fingers crush the lavender rose he had forgotten completely, the petals crumbling under his nails.

"I'm sorry." Kuroo sounded devastated, maybe disappointed in himself for pushing Kei this far.  _Good._  "Tsukki, just… sorry, I didn't mean to upset you like this. I just wanted to let you know that you could stay. If you wanted. Until it was safe to move about." A moment passed, the sound of rustling grass warning Kei of Kuroo's movements, but he didn't bother to stop the inevitable from happening.

Kuroo leaned over and wrapped him into a hug, tight and with all the intentions of anchoring Kei down into this precise moment. Kei's mind blanked out — he wanted to lash out, to squirm away from Kuroo's hold, to scream, but nothing came. Nothing other than tears when he allowed his eyes fluttered open again.

"I'm sorry," Kuroo muttered against the crook of Kei's neck, "I always make fun of Lev for being so blunt, but I wasn't exactly sensitive here just now." Kuroo squeezed at Kei's side before moving a hand up to the back of his head, fingers curling into the blond hair. "Please forgive me." Kuroo's voice was sincere, quiet and upset about causing Kei misery, and Kei was surprised how easy it was to believe in the authenticity of that feeling.

Kei couldn't bring himself to say anything in response, mostly due to the tears that fogged up the clarity of his vision and thought processes. He had always been a silent crier, mostly out of necessity. This time, too. There was no snot, no wheezing gurgling, no sound. There were only the warm tears against his cold skin and Kuroo's arms around him.

Kei swallowed hard. He hadn't expected Kuroo to apologize, though he had no idea  _what_  he had expected if not that. "Stop playing nice, Kuroo-san," he croaked, wincing at the rough, tired quality of his voice. "I don't need pity."

"I'm not pitying you," Kuroo protested, voice muffled into the fabric of Kei's tunic. Kei shivered; he could  _feel_  Kuroo's lips moving along to the words. "It's closer to the holy trilogy of empathy, sympathy, and compassion. Honestly." Kuroo's fingers shifted in Kei's hair, rubbing along his scalp lightly. If Kei's heart jumped at that, it was just a coincidence.

"Compassion," Kei tried the word, listened to the quivering syllables stumbling past his lips.

Kuroo grinned like the devil against Kei's shoulder before lifting his head up, nose bumping against Kei's cheek. "Yeah. I'm sure you know the word."

"I didn't think—"

"—that I did?" Kuroo finished his sentence with carefree laughter bubbling out after. It sounded very fake to Kei, though, and it was the cause of the sinking feeling inside Kei's stomach. "Geesh, Tsukki, I'm not  _a monster._ " He pulled back away from the embrace that Kei hadn't returned even despite leaning into Kuroo's warmth. "You know what this situation calls for?"

Kei blinked, tears still running down his face. "…what?"

"Flower crowns." Kuroo glanced out at the torn petals of the lavender rose, smile turning into something sadder and more private.

"Flower crowns?" Kei repeated in faint disbelief, voice choked and weak. Akiteru had taught him the art of bending flowers into multi-colored wreaths.

"Flower crowns," Kuroo confirmed, the smirk back on his face. "C'mon, I'm pretty great at making them, even if I do say so myself."

 

 

 

Alright. Kei could admit that Kuroo's confidence was not completely unfounded. He could also give Kuroo credit for not ruining the crowns by bending the flower stems too hard, though Kuroo's gentleness was hardly a surprise by now.

What was, perhaps, most surprising was the look of childish joy that he saw shining on Kuroo's face as his fingers worked hard to produce the flower wreath(s). Unguarded, completely unashamed joy that Kei had no heart to make fun of.

Because Kuroo was the same as him in that way.

Kei fumbled a little bit with his own wreath, fingers dropping the flower he had been working into the crown. Taking a deep breath — it was easier, air now reached his lungs — Kei picked it up and started again.

Doing intricate work with his hands and fingers had always managed to calm him down, and it did its magic now as well: the storm that had been stirred had calmed down into a less nauseating uneasiness in his stomach. That he could ignore easily enough with flowers and Kuroo's company.

He glanced at Kuroo to see how he was doing. "…dandelions?"

Kuroo hummed. "The simplest flowers, aren't they?" A faint flush on his face, he continued, "You've done this before too, haven't you, Tsukki?"

"With my brother," Kei admitted quietly, his eyes immediately going back to the entwined flower stems that his fingers held. "He used to… tend to a small garden himself, so we would make flower crowns for each other when we were younger."The back of Kei's neck heated up in self-consciousness, and he stared harder at his fingers, blinking away the remaining tears.

The cracks had already formed, leaving room for doubt towards his firm belief and trust in Akiteru's survival.

It was no use fixing that.

"That sounds great," Kuroo breathed out. "I was never much of a gardener myself, so I just went with whatever I could find in the forest clearings and stuff."

"You say you're not, but who tends to this one?" Kei asked out of genuine curiosity. "They did a messy job arranging them. And dandelions aren't really…" he trailed off, flinching when he felt Kuroo look at him.

"You have no idea of the flower meanings, do you?" Kuroo had the nerve to laugh at Kei's words. "I know, I know, but I insisted. I love blowing dandelion seeds when they appear."

Kei blinked at him. "What?"

Kuroo's grin widened, his eyes crinkling with mischievous mirth. "Not telling you."

"That's just irritating," Kei huffed, frowning as he added the last daisy into his wreath. "Okay, I'm done." His cheeks grow hotter as he glanced at Kuroo, hoping the warmth on his face wasn't as obvious as he thought it was. Kuroo, too, was done — much quicker than Kei, who hadn't made a proper crown in years.

"Akiteru and I always made these for each other, so uh," Kei made a face as he felt himself sweat. It was just the late afternoon sun, he swore. "J-just take it."

Kuroo, luckily, made absolutely no wisecracks about Kei's slight stammer at the end. Instead, he looked absolutely elated. "Ah, Tsukki! I was just thinking about exchanging these myself," he sighed happily as he leaned over to place the yellow dandelion wreath over Kei's head. "Ah, it's a little too small. My bad."

"It's fine," Kei said distantly, pushing Kuroo back. "You seem to like red, so…" he trailed off, embarrassed as he took the wreath of red daisies and gently set it over Kuroo's sorry excuse for a hairdo. "Red daisies for a red-wearing cat."

It was Kuroo's turn to blush. "Tsukki…"

"W-what, you did the same for me," Kei grumbled, the nervousness in his gut overruling the anxiety for Akiteru's presence.

Kuroo beamed at him, the dimples obvious on his cheeks, eyes crinkling and glowing with warm happiness that made Kei's skin tingle. In the colors of the setting sun, the sight was even more breathtaking. Kei felt his flush climb up to the tips of his ears.

"It's very rare for me," Kuroo murmured as he leaned over to occupy Kei's breathing space. "I haven't had the luxury of someone doing this for me in a long time, even if I have companions here."

"Stop getting emotional, please," Kei mumbled, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see the dazzled expression in Kuroo's. "It's seriously—"  _Pathetic,_  he intended to say but the word died on his lips before he could utter it.

Kuroo's lips pressed against Kei's forehead, not once but twice, the latter touch lingering much longer, and Kuroo's hand moved to rub at the back of Kei's neck.

Kei was rendered speechless.

"Tsukki," Kuroo murmured, breathing the name with respect and astonishment as his fingers curled around Kei's neck gingerly and most likely feeling Kei's racing pulse, "it means the world to me."

Kuroo then nuzzled his forehead against Kei's, making eye contact that Kei couldn't bring himself to break. "Thank you," Kuroo whispered.

Maybe the dizziness this time wasn't from the lack of sleep and nutrition.

"Tsukki…?" Kuroo's voice seemed distant, suddenly. Kei's ears rang as the nausea returned stronger. "Tsukki! You okay?" Kuroo sounded panicked, worried, and still incredibly warm. 

Maybe it was foolish, but Kei wanted to trust that voice.

It was the only thing he could cling to when he began to drift away, eyes already shut and thoughts slowing down to a complete and abrupt halt.


	6. white carnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't know me."
> 
> "I know bits of you, and I happen to like those bits."

When he was finished with Tsukishima Akiteru's journal, Iwaizumi Hajime felt a little dead inside.

Not because the contents were anything horrifyingly sad or anything he hadn't seen or heard before, but because he knew that somewhere Tsukishima Kei was waiting anxiously for his brother's return.

Most likely that was the stranger Kuroo had brought with him, and the one Oikawa had been so curious about, Iwaizumi decided as he closed the journal, sliding it into the small bag he had taken with him for food and other necessities. After all, there hadn't been other demon sightings after Kuroo's own case.

Iwaizumi slid out of the Tsukishima household quietly, stretching his stiff arms. He'd head back to the stables and stay there for the night, and then check out the rest of the village the next morning. Or maybe he could just start his journey back to the castle, since he had most of the information he needed from Ukai anyway.

It wasn't much and certainly not unpredictable: some sort of accident led to people seeing the horns, and people had been ready to get the pitchforks and torches faster than Iwaizumi could utter 'Oikawa'.

But If there was something he was disappointed in, it was the fact that he didn't have the chance to meet Kageyama — the kid's apartment had burned down, but no corpse had been discovered if Ukai was telling the truth. That was some relief, at least, Iwaizumi thought distantly. Oikawa would deny it with a sneer, but he too would find that piece of news freeing.

The village was as silent as it had been when Iwaizumi had arrived, and with nightfall came the eerie nightlife. Even with the distant hooting of the owls, the only distinct sound Iwaizumi heard came from his own footsteps that led him through the village. Moon didn't show itself; the clouds were thick; air coolly slithering past Iwaizumi's armor that strained his muscles.

Iwaizumi couldn't say exactly how his eyes caught a glimpse of the familiar shape of a bow that lay abandoned at the side of the road. Maybe he was that much on the edge that every odd shape made him tighten his grip over his sheathed sword he always had on himself.

The closed doors of houses never opened as Iwaizumi bent down to pick up the broken pieces of a bow, his fingers feeling up the hard surface and dipping curves of the wooden weapon. As far as he knew, no one in the village practiced archery to the extent of needing a longbow. Iwaizumi's lips curved down as he stared at the broken string and the uneven splatters of blood on the pale-colored wood.

Under the light of magic-fueled lamps and lanterns, Iwaizumi could see the engraved, barely there, initials.

K.T.

Iwaizumi pursed his lips together, his hands fumbling with the splinters and cursing when his fingers were prickled. 

The rustling sound from a short distance away quickly made Iwaizumi forget the pain in his fingers. Alert, he glared around. He had reached the less populated part of the village, where bushes and trees outnumbered houses. Normally, it wouldn't be surprising if someone had taken a walk, as it wasn't terribly late yet, but Iwaizumi was already on the edge from the eerie silence that had encased Karasuno.

Iwaizumi stayed quiet, shoulders tense and hand on the hilt of his sword.

His eyes narrowed when they caught sight of the dark shadow just outside of the magical light's sphere.

He wasn't going to be the idiot that yelled out  _who's there_ when situation got a little spooky, but he wasn't going to pretend that the fluttering shadow was just "the tree branches moving to the wind" either.

It was good, too, since the next thing Iwaizumi was aware of was the ear-piercing shriek and  _something_  leaping upon him fast enough to make him fumble, especially since his other hand still held onto the pieces of a bow that made Iwaizumi's chest ache with mild worry. Nevertheless, he got his sword out quick enough to block whatever weapon the other held, the harsh clanging sound piercing his ears in the silence of the beginning of the night.

" _Iwa-chan's the only one I can trust to come back alive, after all."_

Oikawa's words echoed in Iwaizumi's mind, like an echo of a bell, slightly muted but enough to grab his attention.

_Don't you worry about me, Oikawa._

.

.

.

Kei felt something on his forehead. Damp and warm and disgustingly clammy, which made it impossible for him to fall back into unconsciousness. Conscious world was very unwelcome to him for several reasons, but Kei could only postpone the inevitable for so long.

The next sensation was a warmth on his hand, tight pressure over knuckles as a thumb rubbed at the back of Kei's hand with obvious agitation.

"—kki," Kuroo's voice came from close by, and brought some clarity to Kei's muddled mind in its wake. "You know how you made me a flower crown out of red daisies? I'm still wearing it, actually." Kei made a point of not reacting to the gentle lilt and the squeezing hand on his, and listened quietly with a drop of water trickling down the side of his head, of which he was too aware of.

"I don't know what you'd say about it, honestly," Kuroo continued, his voice wavering, "probably call me  _stupid,_ which is, by the way, not true most of the time. I'm just stupid for you."

 _We met not even a week ago,_ he wanted to retort to Kuroo, but he stayed silent since Kuroo seemed eager to ramble his thoughts out loud — and that obvious concern in his tone rendered Kei just a little speechless.

Kuroo laughed, nervous and a little hysterical and  _tired_. "I know you're not dead, of course. I can feel your pulse every time I try to find it. Your skin is soft and warm, even between the fading bruises and wounds." As if to prove himself, Kuroo's fingers trailed over to Kei's wrist, pressing down lightly on Kei's relatively calm pulse.

It wouldn't remain calm for long,since Kei became too aware of the touch quickly.

"Red daisies, though? It's like you're complimenting me without your own knowledge.  _Beauty unknown to possessor_ seems much more fitting for you, Tsukki." Kuroo sounded amused. "I wish you knew the meaning. I'm pretty sure you don't. But I can hope… It's all we have these days, really." Kuroo's fingers rubbed at Kei's wrist in soothing circular movements, more to his own comfort than Kei's.

"And I know you're awake, Tsukki, so you can open your eyes now," Kuroo added, laughter bubbling past his lips and into his voice, and Kei went rigid against the sheets he lay on.

"How did you—" Kei winced at the raspy quality of his words and the abrasive sensation in his throat, eyes fluttering open to meet Kuroo's face that hovered over his.

"Your pulse sped up," Kuroo explained, his lips forming a wide grin — a seemingly chill, contented one, but Kei saw the tense twitch of the corner of Kuroo's mouth. He had been worried. "As amusing as it would have been for you to have an exciting dream, I figured it meant that you were awake and could hear me rambling."

Kei was sure his face couldn't possibly get hotter than what it already was. "Yeah," was all he could bring himself to say as he broke the eye contact and took a look around the room he was in. "…not the same one I was in before, I see."

"This is my room," Kuroo admitted, and that admission made Kei look at him again, eyes wider and his body stiff and posture guarded. "Don't look at me like that, Tsukki! I couldn't just leave you outside after you fainted on me. I'm not  _that_  heartless."

"But you're somewhat heartless then?" Kei allowed himself to smirk, even though his head felt dangerously light in the wake of his unprompted sleep and, well, Kuroo's sort-of not-really confession. How should he even interpret it ass?  _I'm stupid for you._  Kei felt a twinge of something in his stomach, not necessarily a positive one.

"When it's needed," Kuroo drawled, leaning away from Kei and plopping against the armchair he had dragged next to the bed. "I'll let you know my heart beats strongly for those that deserve it."

"You don't know me."

"I know bits of you, and I happen to like those bits."

Kei's hands clenched around the soft sheets, inhaling sharply as he pushed himself up despite Kuroo's hushed protests of  _don't do anything too harsh, Tsukki, you look like you're about to faint again_. The cloth that had been placed over his forehead fell off, and Kuroo caught it easily before it landed on the blanket, putting it aside afterwards.

"Which bits would those be?" Kei asked but the growling of his stomach interrupted him. Disturbingly enough, he didn't remember the last time he had eaten… no wonder he had fainted.

"I'll let you know later," Kuroo murmured as he set a steady hand to Kei's shoulder, keeping him on his place. "First, you should eat."

Kuroo's eyes met his, and they showed a flickering amusement at Kei's sour expression. "Have I ever tried to poison you yet? Please. Have some chicken noodle soup. You'll love me; it's one of my finest yet simplest dishes." He stood up, hand lingering on Kei's shoulder for a moment before Kuroo went to retrieve a plateful of soup.

"How long have you been waiting for me to wake up?" Kei wondered as he took the offered bowl and spoon, relishing in the warmth radiating off the soup. "Seems like you just got this ready for me."

"Nah, you've been out for a while," Kuroo sat down again, stretching himself. Soft cracks of bones popping into place filled the momentary silence. "It's just that I can heat foods like soup up relatively effortlessly." Kuroo's eyes flickered to meet Kei's, mischief burning in the golden depths. It was a look Kei was already too accustomed to and one he honestly preferred to the brief moments of insecurity he had witnessed.

Mostly because Kei couldn't deal with others' anxieties very well. He couldn't deal with his own, either. Wrong things always came past his lips even when he didn't really mean them.  _Poor Yamaguchi._

"Magic," Kei said flatly as he took the first, careful sip of the soup. "Of course," he mumbled, "should have figured that to be the case."

Kuroo grinned, snapping his fingers to regain Kei's full attention. "I can show you if you'd like."

Kei's mouth being full of soup, he didn't bother to try to answer that immediately. Once swallowed, the warmth easing the hollow pains in his stomach, Kei turned to look at Kuroo again. His scrutiny of the other didn't yield many results, though.

"You keep saying that you'll show or tell me something later," Kei observed, absentmindedly rolling the spoon in the soup. "Do you not have anything else to do around the castle other than keep an eye on me? The King and you seemed awfully close from what I remember." It was rather irritating, honestly, but Kei appreciated the company for what it was worth…

…since no one else seemed to care enough to concern themselves with the "halfbreed" anyway. Most of them probably condemned his existence itself, like the villagers had. The thought made Kei's stomach prickle with an acidic feeling, and his lips curled down in misery.

He really couldn't go back there anymore. (Not to Yamaguchi, not his other acquaintance-friends.)

Kei shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth perhaps a little too aggressively.

"Not particularly," Kuroo admitted, not sounding the least bit of ruffled by Kei's apparent annoyance (which was as intimidating a kitten swatting something with its paw). "And even if I did, I'd rather hang out with you anyway, Tsukki." Kuroo leaned back, holding out his palm in front of himself. Kei watched curiously as a flicker of a flame came to life on his fingertip, fluttering and shifting until it gained steadiness.

Kuroo grinned when he saw Kei's eyes widen with obvious amazement. "Taken in by my brilliance, are you?" he snickered, watching Kei nearly choke on the hot soup and cough after managing to swallow it down.

"Anyone would be," Kei said after getting over his coughing fit, voice hoarse but better than before soup. The tips of his ears flushed as he avoided direct eye contact with Kuroo, even though he wanted to look at the dancing flame a little more.

Kuroo hummed, satisfied with the answer he got. "Tsukki, I'm not going to tease you, so you can look at me, okay?" A pause. "Even though the way you blush all the way to your ears  _is_  terribly adorable."

"You're already teasing me," Kei muttered, rebelliously slurping on his soup to drown out Kuroo's response, even if it was a little barbaric. Once finished, he had no escape from Kuroo, but at least Kei felt considerably better after getting food after what felt like a small eternity. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Kei let his eyes wander around in the room for a bit.

There were magic-fueled lamps instead of candles, he noticed first, and he was grateful for a better lighting. Candlelight had been better for falling asleep, but Kuroo's presence was much easier to take when no shadows covered his sharp-lined face.

Kei's eyes took in the piles of books that lay on the lonely desk, saw the quill and the scattered papers.

"Ah," Kuroo apparently saw where Kei's eyes had gone to. "I've been writing a bit while you were off visiting your dream land."

"So, this is your room," Kei concluded, inspecting the rest with a critical eye. There was a wardrobe, of course, made of oak and painted dark red, half-open for whatever reason. Kei could see clothes of different colors and fabrics peeking out, some of them distinctly more royal than the rest.  _How strange._

Asides from the desk and the wardrobe (and the bed), there weren't any other large pieces of furniture around, but several magical tools lay around, scattered randomly around the room, some on the floor and some on the walls. Their shapes were as ridiculous as the purposes Kei imagined them to have, and his lips curled into an amused half-smirk. He was terribly curious, he couldn't deny that.

"Eager to rummage through my stuff already, eh?" Kuroo teased, taking the bowl from Kei since he had finished. "Don't look at me like that! I know I have a nice room."

"For someone that seems to read a lot, investing in a bookshelf might be worth it," Kei shrugged, not directly replying to the comment. It wasn't worth the effort to enter the playful bickering contest with Kuroo of all people… er… beings. Whatever.

"I guess so, but I don't feel like it," Kuroo hummed as he switched to sitting on the edge of his bed that Kei currently occupied. Kei pulled his legs up to give Kuroo some room, hooking his arms behind his knees before lowering his head. Kuroo was  _still_  wearing that flower crown Kei had made for him but the flowers seemed a little less vibrant by now, some petals having fallen already.

Not like Kei had been bothered by it.

"Hey, don't put your head down just yet, Tsukki," Kuroo nudged at him in the shoulder with a warm palm. "I have a gift for you, now that you're up again."

 _It wouldn't happen to be a time traveling device to revise the past events, would it?_  Kei was more tired than bitter at this point, even though he was sure bitterness would come back soon after his mind became clearer and more awake (and less appreciative of Kuroo's attempts at keeping him occupied with that charming grin and nonsensical topics and silly deeds).

"Already giving me gifts, Kuroo-san?" Kei smiled insincerely as he obediently raised his head. "You move pretty quickly for a country bumpkin like me."

Kuroo held up another flower crown, flowers more fresh than the ones tucked into his sorry disaster area called hair. The crown was way too large, though—

"A lei," Kei mumbled as Kuroo nodded, slipping Kei's head through and placing the lei carefully around his neck. "You made me a  _lei._ "

"If you wanna call it that, yeah." Kuroo grinned, fingers lingering on Kei's neck a little longer than necessary. Kei was sure Kuroo felt the quickening pulse underneath his fingers, and bit at his lip. "A token of friendship, if you will."

 _One fifth of me is sure you have been hitting on me, Kuroo-san._ Kei didn't acknowledge his own thought and simply let his fingers rise to meet the petals of the flowers. "Carnations?" He eyed at the white flowers with narrowed eyes as a memory from just a few years ago resurfaced to the front of his thoughts. "White carnations."

"Uh-huh." Kuroo's grin widened.

"Did you know they stand for  _sweet_  and  _lovely_?" Kei's nose wrinkled as he continued in a low mumble, "The only flower whose meaning I remember anymore…"

"Why do you think I made such a large wreath out of them for you?" Kuroo asked, his hand slipping to the back of Kei's neck, fingers warm against Kei's cold skin. Kei tried his best not to flinch at the touch, even though it made dread fill up his stomach. "They fit you. Sweet and lovely."

The dread was dissipated with just those words, replaced by genuine confusion and an erratic heartbeat. "Clearly, your definitions of those are skewed, Kuroo-san."

The hand behind Kei's neck must have felt the quickening pulse, must have felt the tension in his muscles, but Kuroo made no comment on either of those things. Instead, he cocked his head in a manner suggestive of deep thought. "Clearly, you have no self-awareness."

"That's insulting."

"You can't see how cute you are?  _That_  is an insult on beauty if I've ever heard one." Kuroo gave him a look, one that made Kei shift uncomfortably in the sheets. He had never been quite looked at like that — like Kuroo was struggling to figure him out, without even a hint of giving up until the mystery was solved.

There was another kind of glimmer in his eyes, too. Frustration.

"Excuse me for not feeling particularly contented with myself under the circumstances," Kei muttered, instinctively touching at the horn on the right side of his head, cringing at the hard feeling under his trembling fingers.

Kuroo was quick to tug Kei's hand away and hold it carefully in his own as he exhaled, sounding a little weary himself. "Tsukki, what others might view as an abomination isn't always that," he murmured, pulling Kei's hand towards himself and pressing it against his chest, palm flat over Kuroo's heart. "If someone hates you for who you are, for something that cannot be changed, then it's them that should find a solution to their shitty attitude."

Kei's fingers twitched against Kuroo's silky shirt, lips thinning as he gave Kuroo's words some consideration, Kuroo's heart pounding against his fingers like Kei's possible reactions worried him.

How could anyone spread misinformed lies about Kuroo?

Kei remembered the murmurs of passing people from the time he had spent at the entrance to the garden, his heart and body too numb to dare to venture deeper. Some of them were scared of Kuroo, some were more terrified by the King. (Which was odd, considering they  _served_  the said royalty, and it added to the vague tension that hovered in the air.)

And,  _shit_ (sorry, niichan), Kei could find himself feeling as comfortable with Kuroo as he did with his friends and Akiteru. It was surprising, considering how difficult Kei was to impress, how difficult it was to shed his guard around anyone.

Not that he had lowered his guard completely with Kuroo, either.

"That sounds like a coming-out speech rather than trying to convince someone they're not some Satanic halfbreed," Kei muttered, biting at his lower lip as Kuroo's hand let go of his. Kei made no effort to move his own away from Kuroo's chest, the warmth of his shirt and the beat of his heart bringing great comfort to Kei's disarrayed and distracted thoughts.

"To some, those two are the exact same thing," Kuroo smiled wryly, but his heart made a nervous leap that Kei noticed. "Just trust me, Tsukki. You're fine as you are." As the words bubbled past his talkative mouth, Kuroo leaned closer into Kei's breathing space. It was Kei's heart that nearly stopped right then as their eyes met.

Glassless, Kei felt defenseless under Kuroo's gaze.

"Again, you don't know me half as well as you think you do," Kei said quietly, the wreath of carnations suddenly weighing on his neck a lot more than flowers usually did. His words didn't deter Kuroo in the slightest, though, just like he had figured they wouldn't. That in itself wasn't surprising, but the look Kuroo gave him was a little…

Kei inhaled, rubbing at the side of his head with his free hand in attempt to distract himself from the intense, observant eyes.

"I want to," Kuroo murmured as he leaned further in until their foreheads bumped awkwardly and Kuroo's bangs tickled at Kei's face. "As long as you're here with me, I want to use the chance to get to know you a little better. Show you that trust isn't bad as long as it is well-placed."

"Well-placed…"Kei hadn't trusted anyone with his secret before, only Akiteru (and their father, but did he really count) since they shared the same loathed blood. It was difficult to start trusting anyone now, especially when he hadn't been able to tell Sawamura-san and the rest about it either.

"That's right," Kuroo's grin reached his eyes, the intensity from before dimming just a little bit. "Iwaizumi should come back in a day or two at most. We'll get to know the truth what happened to your brother, too…" Kuroo trailed off, realizing that he had gone off tangent, and his smile faded. "Don't worry too much, though, okay?"

Kei swallowed, a new wave of heat rising to his face, but before he could respond, Kuroo pulled away with a laugh. "By the way, Tsukki, you  _really_  need a bath, man. I can't believe you haven't had one since you were healed." Kuroo's nose scrunched up playfully as he stood up. "I need to show you around the castle officially, too. Now that you're not trying to run away from me like before."

The flush on Kei's was from a different kind of embarrassment now. "You can't blame me for that," he retorted defensively as he took the offered help to get himself up from the bed, legs still shaky despite the much needed rest and meal. (Chicken noodle soup. Kei's favorite out of non-sweet meals. Not that Kuroo needed to know that.)

"I can't and I don't," Kuroo laughed as he pulled Kei up, hugging him to his side like an overly friendly uncle. He kind of looked like one too, Kei could say if he wanted to be an ass  _and_  a liar. "I'm just glad you're coming around now." The words were uttered with such softness and fondness that Kei nearly tripped over his feet. "Whoa, there. Still feeling woozy?"

"Mm."

"Hold on, I got you."

The arduous trip to the closest a bathroom began with Kuroo's warm side pressed against Kei's and quiet explanations and answers to Kei's questions filling up the silence.

.

.

.

Tooru, on the other hand, was outside, a cold wind and a young knight-to-be as his company. Though he supposed he was much more  _Oikawa_  than  _Tooru_  these days as the King. There was so little room for personal feelings anymore.

Which made this visit to the lonely gravestone placed in a small forest clearing that much more foolish.

Tooru smiled gently as his hand slid down the smooth surface of the memorial stone, feeling the dip of each carved letter.  _In memory of Kunimi Akira, a beloved friend to all, a young man with a righteous heart._  The words didn't mean anything; they were as impersonal as they could get, not doing Kunimi's memory any justice. No matter how many times Tooru visited, he would never feel less bitter about it.

"Tobio-chan still doesn't know you're dead," Tooru began, the hard tone on the name a harsh contrast to the softness of the rest. "Sorry, Kunimi-kun."

He didn't want to talk about Tobio to Kunimi's gravestone, not particularly, but Kunimi…

Tooru exhaled, the sound drowned out by the sounds of birds singing. "Everyone misses you." Tooru raised his hand to his chest, over his beating (bleeding) heart. It had not stopped beating yet. It wouldn't for a long time, unless Tooru allowed it. Just like Kunimi had allowed his own heartbeat to slow down until it ceased to be, just for the sake of a young king that might not be worthy of the weight of the royal garbs even despite growing up to take them.

Tooru would not cry.

But he already was.

He always was crying, even if it wasn't on the outside, but he was good at pretending, good at being strong. Bitterness was empowering.

"I'm sorry, Kunimi-kun," Tooru repeated as snot dripped down from his nose and tears blocked his view of the engraved kanji of Kunimi's name. "I'm sorry."

He could never stop apologizing to this one, this person that he hadn't meant to lose.

"Oikawa-san." The knight accompanying him (soon to be a knight, as he was talented enough, determined enough) cleared his throat, sounding a little constipated as he was forced to listen to Tooru's monologue for the umpteenth time.

Kindaichi had stopped crying with Tooru a while back.

It made Tooru wonder which one of them was truly a strong one — and that thought alone made Tooru take a wheezing, snorting inhale of breath as he furiously wiped his eyes and nose into a handkerchief.

He wasn't ashamed, not particularly. There were many ugly things about unhealed grief, yes, but he could never be ashamed for it.

"Iwaizumi-san should be coming back soon," Kindaichi murmured as he stepped forward, his steps a little wobbly. Tooru smiled knowingly to himself; Kindaichi was like him, only playing strong even with a cracked heart. "Let's go back to the castle."

"Aaaa," Tooru murmured, some pressure in his chest relieved. Iwa-chan. His Iwa-chan. The one he could trust to make things normal again; the knight to Tooru's king; the one that had stayed by Tooru's side all these years without a hint of wanting to leave permanently.

Tooru pulled himself up from the crouching position he had been in for the last fifteen minutes, rolling his shoulders until the satisfying crack was heard. "You don't have anything to say to him, Kindaichi-kun?"

"I have run out of things to tell him already." Kindaichi smiled a forced, polite smile, but it was nowhere near as convincing as Tooru's own fake ones. So easy to see through. Not that Tooru could blame him, what with the heavy thought of  _it's not like he's really here_  hanging over Kindaichi's shoulders.

Kindaichi had probably been…

Tooru shook the thought away. As interesting as the gossip around the castle was, as interesting as the relationships were, this was something he shouldn't soil.

"That so?" he said instead, voice still thick and tears still running down his cheeks. It was hard to stop once he had started crying, but things could get bad if they waited until nightfall for Tooru to calm down. "If you say so, Kindaichi-kun. Let's go back where we both belong." He tapped Kindaichi in the back with his fingers, firm and soothing between pieces of armor.

"Let's go home."

Even if none of them knew what  _home_  meant anymore.

Right then, Tooru was waiting for his own to come back with a gruff call of  _hey, Oikawa_  and a lecture on Tooru's eating habits.

He was waiting for Iwa-chan to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to kick me [for any reason]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this;;;  
> the updates will be sporadic at best, since I still have a few papers left to deal with, and I'm usually obnoxiously awful with updating.


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